Appetence
by fianna2452
Summary: There are some things one can change; others are immutable, destiny being one of them.
1. One

**Disclaimer:** This will be the disclaimer for the subsequent chapters as well. I do not own Magi or its characters. For now rated T, but may be raised to M.

 **A/N:** Well, I know I shouldn't start another story. I was going to wait, but I couldn't help myself after binge watching both the Labyrinth of Magic and Kingdom of Magic. I tried to chill out before watching the Adventures of Sinbad, but I finished that too :'( Then I went and spoiled myself with the manga, and I didn't even read the whole thing, I literally just skipped around to everything having to deal with Sinbad in the last like 10 chapters. Honestly…I want to strangle the life out of him.

Compared to more popular anime like Naruto, Bleach, Inuyasha, etc. there aren't that many Magi fics out there, so I thought "Why not contribute". I know Sinbad and Kouen are popular when it comes to these things, but I simply couldn't help myself. I haven't decided what the final pairing will be, if there even will be one. Though they are both very attractive characters, they probably wouldn't make ideal husbands.

I'd also like to give a shout out to _**pemberleys**_ for the encouragement and _**xLilim**_ because her fic _Empress_ is what made me watch Magi in the first place!

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. Please do leave a review and tell me what you think afterwards. ^_^

* * *

 _Things were never supposed to be so complicated. When had their lives become so intertwined? When had she become so reliant? When had she become someone she never wanted to be? There are some things one can change; others are immutable, one of them being destiny._

 _ **PART I—** The Kingdom of Sumeryia_

 **Chapter One**

The Kingdom of Sumeryia lay situated in the center of the Southern Continent. The country was an oddity due to its landscape. The Hassan River—a body of water immense in both length and width allowed the middle and western end of the country to flourish with lush greenery and tropical fauna and flora. The river started in the north at the mighty Sumer Jungle, flowing down through the Capital—Hassan— before dumping out into the sea. The nation took advantage of the river's flow and set up irrigation systems for their crops.

On the other side lay the reason for the country's oddity. On the eastern end of the country was the Assyrian Desert. A barren, sandy land, that provided a natural border between Sumeryia and the country lying to the west. In the desert, the mild Sumeryian climate increased drastically in temperature. The desert ran for miles to the east before becoming a plateau and acting as a border. Few lived there; only the poorest of the poor. Less than half of the desert that was livable—only the eastern edge where water from the Hassan River could be irrigated in. The land was still dry, but water, as little as it was, was available for its residents.

The poor and impoverished weren't they only ones living in the desert. During the first few years of training, those in the army were required to live and train in the desert as a way of increasing their endurance to the highest levels. It was the reason why the kingdom, though not as large as some prominent empires, had one of the strongest armies in the world. It was also the reason why Sumeryia rarely had to worry about invasion. There had been a few times in the past where warring nations had tried, but each invasion failed due to the inability to cross the Assyrian Desert. Only with the help of a Sumeryian soldier would one be capable of passing through the vast wasteland.

To the west of Sumeryia was Asuria, a smaller country separated from Sumeryia by the Asur River. The Asur River branched off from the Hassan River. Asuria and Sumeryia were allies due to their proximity and were each other's top importer and exporter. The two had an open border policy, allowing merchants of each country to pass to and fro with ease.

To the east was the country of Hanan. Hanan and Sumeryia had no formal alliance. Hanan was a homogenous country that preferred to keep to themselves. Unlike with Asuria, Hanan and Sumeryia had no open border policy so travel between the two was more difficult, not to mention the desert plateau separating the two countries made it even tougher. Few made the trek from Sumeryia to Hanan and vice versa, only approved merchants and diplomats.

At the center of Sumeryia was the capital, Hassan. Hassan was its largest and most populated city. No matter the time of day, the capital was always busy. From snake charmers and fortune tellers on the street to plays and circus acts in the theatre, Hassan also served as the center for culture and entertainment.

At the very heart of the capital was the royal palace—the largest and most extravagant building in entire country. It was white with gold detailing along the walls and intricate windows. The dome at the very center—which also served as the palace's highest point—was a rich gold color, while the two smaller domes on either side were a lighter gold. The whole grounds itself was surrounded by large walls that shielded it from the prying eyes of anyone who was not authorized to be inside.

The palace was broken up into sections. The west wing served as the center of administration, it was where meetings and formal audiences were held. The east wing was where the military was assembled and served as a training grounds, on the second floor was the large library. On the second floor of the south wing were the quarters for the staff—maids, gardeners, cooks—on the first floor was the kitchen and dining area. The throne room sat at the very top of the north wing and led out to a balcony that gave a view of the whole city. Below the throne room were the quarters of the royal guard and those closest to the royal family, such as retainers. Lastly, the very center of the palace housed the royal family. On the third floor was the king and queen's quarters, the second were the princes' and princess's quarters, and on the first floor were a few rooms for honored guests.

The royal family currently consisted of six members. The 16th ruler of Sumeryia, King Arman Al'Jassan, his wife Queen Nuria, their three sons: First Prince Armin, Second Prince Ali, and Third Prince Ahmed; and last, but not least their niece: Princess Nazanin.

* * *

"Princess, please! That's dangerous."

Nazanin glanced over her shoulder at the man standing a few feet behind her at the balcony doors. He was worried about her falling over, but it was a common thing for her to sit on the balcony's concrete railing. He should have been used to it by now. Besides, she would never fall—she had impeccable balance and her reflexes were just as good.

"You worry too much, Jalal," was her short answer before returning her attention to the men below. She had been reading a book on the balcony of the library when the daily training of the Sumeryian army commenced. It wasn't the whole army, as the whole country's army wouldn't be able to fit in such a spot; different sections trained at different times and on different days, and even then, it was select. She had stopped reading and began to watch when she saw someone different was leading the day's instruction.

Usually it was led by the first prince, Armin Al'Jassan. He was the general commander of the army and led them fiercely. He fit the role of commander well, having short dark hair reaching just below his ears and thick brows that were always furrowed due to his face being set intense. Today, however, instruction was being led by the second in command and second prince, Ali.

Prince Ali was a much more personable man than his elder brother. Unlike the first prince, Ali always had a pleasant look on his face, and rarely did he ever look anything but. Rarely didn't mean never—at times Prince Ali could be _scary_ , but a lot would have to go down for that to happen.

"Ah, I see Prince Ali is leading today," Jalal said as he moved closer to join the princess in watching. "It's nice to see him giving them instruction on swordplay, he is the best swordsman after all."

"Second best," Nazanin corrected.

"Huh?"

"He is the second best. I took the best swordsman for my own use." Her nonchalant answer surprised the man, earning a bashful look. He closed his eyes and bowed his head in an act of modesty.

"You flatter me, Princess."

Jalal was what would be considered her assistant or attendant and acted dually as her personal guard. She had handpicked him from the royal guard when she first became princess. Jalal was a broad shouldered, tall and lean man, standing at six-foot-two. He had long black hair that he usually tied in a low ponytail and feathery bangs that covered his brows, stopping just above his hazel eyes. Nazanin thought his light, hazel eyes went nicely with his brown skin. He had a small mole just below his right eye, a sharp nose, and average sized lips.

He wore a long, white, sleeveless tunic that showed off his muscular arms, and black slim fitting pants, opposed to the baggy harem trousers worn by most, with his sword at his side. The look was finished off with black boots. His attire was slightly different from the rest of the Sumeryian royal guard; however, she liked that it was fashionable. To many women, including the palace maids, Jalal was quite the catch.

Nazanin got down from the railing and stood to her feet. She smoothed out her long plum purple skirt that's ends were decorated with gold embroidery. The skirt stopped at the top of her feet, allowing her sandaled feet to be shown only when she took a step. It was loose at the bottom and as it went up hugged her thighs and hips in a mermaid manner. The top of the skirt stopped at the top of her hips, showing off her pierced navel.

A few inches above her navel, the matching shirt began. It was the same purple color with the same gold embroidery on the bottom, neckline, and the end of the short sleeves. The neckline wasn't too low, as it covered her bosom and showed the skin above. Completing the outfit was a sheer plum fabric that had even more gold embroidery. It wrapped around her waist, covering her otherwise exposed torso—though it could still be seen since the fabric was see through—and across her chest before being draped over her left shoulder.

"Come, Jalal. Let's go see Ali."

"But, Princess, he's working."

"I'm sure the officers won't mind ending a bit early today." Nazanin waved him off, passing by him and reentering the library in order to go downstairs. With a sigh, Jalal straightened up and followed his lady out. The library was rather large, and filled to the brim with books about the lineage royal family, Sumeryian history, and the history of the other countries on the Southern Continent. It even contained some information on Heliohapt and Parthevia, which were on different continents.

The library entrance was conveniently across from the winding stairs, so it didn't take them too long to make it downstairs and outside the palace walls. As she and Jalal made their way to the second prince, whose back was tuned to her, the officers noticed Nazanin and began stopping and bowing in respect.

"Princess, good afternoon!" the men greeted in unison.

"Good afternoon. Please stand up," Nazanin spoke, beckoning them up with the palm of her right hand.

Prince Ali sheathed his sword and turned around to meet his first cousin. "Naz, Jalal."

Jalal bowed his head in respect, "Prince Ali."

"What are you doing out here?"

"I came to steal you away from your men." Nazanin answered, tugging on his sleeve. "Eat lunch with me, I'm feeling a bit hungry."

"Naz, I'm in the middle of instruction." He motioned with the incline of his head to the six dozen men standing behind him. They were all standing still with their hands to their sides as they waited for their commander to give further instruction.

"Please, Prince Ali. I really wanted to spend some time with you today." Nazanin's lips twisted upwards, revealing her pearly white teeth, in a smile. And her eyes. Ali's mouth twitched as he faltered under her gaze. Those damn eyes were the devil's work, and whenever she gave that dazzling smile and used that sweet voice of hers, he was putty in her hands.

He sighed, "Fine." He turned to his men and dismissed them lazily. "Training's over. Go back to doing whatever you do."

Jalal gave his lady a disapproving look. "You mustn't do that, Princess."

"What do you mean, Jalal?" she asked, innocently.

The man sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind."

Ali turned back to Nazanin, holding his arm out to her. "Let's go, shall we? I'm feeling rather peckish myself."

* * *

 **[ . . . ]**

Nazanin and Ali sat across from each other at a small table within the palace gardens. The table was situated under a large tree, which shaded them from the hot Sumeryian sun. On the table were refreshments and food made by the palace chefs. Jalal and Hakim, Prince Ali's assistant, stood off to the side having their own conversation as their masters chatted.

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking, Ali?"

Ali, who was taking a sip of wine, shrugged. "It's passed noon, so it's fine." He then set the glass down, placing his arm on the table and propping his head up with his palm. "Now, it's not often you eat lunch with me. What is it that you want, Naz?"

Nazanin hit his elbow with her hand, soliciting a loud "Ow!" from the man. She just rolled her eyes, "I know you were taught to not put your elbows on the table."

"We're alone, who cares?" Ali rubbed at his elbow, "Sheesh, you didn't have to hit me so hard. You don't know your own strength." He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. "Now, what is it that you wanted?"

"Why is it that you think I want something?" Nazanin asked as she cut into the piece of stewed chicken on her plate. "I was simply curious as to why you were leading military instruction today and not Armin, that's all."

"Is it really so strange? I _am_ the second in command, you know."

She shook her head as she took some rice and chicken into her mouth. She actually was hungry, as she had skipped breakfast that morning. Once she swallowed her food, she spoke. "Not really, just usually it's Armin who does it, that's all."

Ali sighed, stirring his food with his fork. "Father has returned from Balbadd, so Armin went to greet him."

"I see."

Nazanin wasn't too informed when it came to politics. She was out of the loop, mostly by choice. However, she did know that the king had gone to Balbadd a little over a week ago to discuss their trade agreement. Balbadd and Sumeryia were on friendly terms—it had been like so for as long as she could remember—so she assumed that everything went well. No doubt they would hear about it during dinner.

And during dinner, they did indeed hear about the king's trip to Balbadd. The family sat at a long oval shaped table. The king sat at the head of the table with the queen sitting in the seat beside him. On the right side of the table sat First Prince Armin and Second Prince Ali, and across from them on the left sat Third Prince Ahmed and Princess Nazanin.

Nazanin didn't pay much attention to the conversation, choosing instead to focus on her food. Ahmed seemed to be doing the same thing, however he was always the quieter and more secluded of the bunch. While his two older brothers vied for the king's attention, he preferred to sit on the sidelines and observe.

"I suspect the King of Balbadd won't last too much longer." Nazanin heard the king say.

"What?" came the shocked gasp of his wife, Nuria. "King Rashid is sick?"

"It would seem so. I fear for the future of Balbadd with him gone."

Nazanin tuned out of the conversation as dessert was brought out by the servants. She was a fan of sweets—well, she was a fan of any type of food save for anything with a gelatinous type of consistency. Her attention remained focused on the sweet treat until she heard the king mention something about a visitor. At this, she once again perked up, wiping away any crumbs on her mouth with a napkin.

"A visitor?" she repeated, her first contribution to the conversation all evening. The queen cast her a short narrowed eyed look before looking back towards the king. Nazanin ignored the woman, intent on listening to what the king had to say. It wasn't often the Sumeryian Palace had guests, so her interest was piqued.

"Yes," the king answered. "While in Balbadd, I met a rather interesting man. He's an ally of King Rashid. He's interested in starting trade with us," King Arman explained.

"Interested in trading with us?" Ali murmured, rubbing his chin with his hand.

"Yes, that's the primary reason for his visit."

"And just who exactly is it?" Prince Armin asked, a question everyone wanted to know.

The king smirked as he stated, "The King of Sindria, King Sinbad."

* * *

 **A/N:** I want to explain some things:

Ages: Nazanin (19), Sinbad (25), Kouen (24), Prince Armin (25), Prince Ali (23), Prince Ahmed (20), Jalal (23)

This first part of the fic starts roughly 3-4 years before start of the series. Enough time after whatever happened between Sindria and Parthevia (I hope, since I haven't tried to read the AoS manga) and enough time to establish relationships and events before actually getting into the events of Magi. I'm sure you can figure out the rest of the Magi cast's ages given this, not that it's too important at the moment. I also want to add that I'm not sure if there has been any mention of a Southern Continent, hopefully not so I don't have to change things around.

Sumeryia is a combination of the names Sumer and Assyria. I looked up ancient civilizations and decided to put the two names together. It was kind of hard for me to choose between creating a country that was loosely Arabian/Persian based like many others in Magi or one loosely Latin based (since we have Arabian and Persian ones already, plus Reim obviously based on Ancient Rome, and Heliohapt which is obviously inspired by Egypt), but in the end I chose the former. Sumeryia isn't based off a particular nation or culture, but it's a bit inspired by the Indian sub continent, mainly the style of dress (Nazanin's outfit described was basically a Saree). It is **NOT** meant to be an accurate representation, just minor inspiration like in Magi.

Since a lot of the major character in Magi are from Arabian Nights (Sinbad, Alibaba, Aladdin, etc.) I decided to look at some of the stories to see what I could work with. The story I came across was "The Three Princes and Princess Nourounnihar". I named the princes after the princes in the story, save for Armin (The 1st prince in that story was named Houssein, but I didn't like that name and to keep with the trend of "A", chose Armin). Nazanin isn't really based on the princess in the story. The story mainly provided a bit a inspiration for this one.

Side note: I modeled Jalal's appearance after one of my anime hubbies lol. Anyone want to take a stab at guessing who? Here's a (easy)hint: Noah ;)

Sorry for the long author's note. Thanks for reading!


	2. Two

**Chapter Two**

In a few days, the King of Sindria would be arriving in Sumeryia. Nazanin was at a loss for words. The King of Sindria, Sinbad— _the_ Sinbad _._ The famed man known around the world for his amazing feats—conquering the first dungeon as a mere boy and then going on to conquer many more in the following years and even founding his own country. The very same person she used to read about as a young girl.

 _The Adventures of Sinbad_

A small smile was present on her face as she looked at the scroll in her hands. It was one of the original copies of the first story of his adventures, straight from the Empire of Reim—later copies were made into actual books. Her father had given it to her as a present on her tenth birthday—it was the last present she'd ever received from him. She had read it so many times during her youth that she knew the story by heart. She was surprised at her ability to keep the scroll in perfect condition after all these years. She supposed that was due to it being one of her prized possessions. Every once in a while she'd pick it back up to give it another read, which is what she had just finished doing.

A knock on her bedroom door broke her thoughts. She called out for whoever it was to enter as she placed the scroll in her lap. In walked one her lady in waiting, Zuhal. She was a woman a few years older than Nazanin with light brown skin and dark brown hair. Her attire was nicer compared to the other palace servants, and she wore her hair in a long French braid. Zuhal had been assigned to one of Nazanin years ago when she had become an official princess. She considered the woman to be one of the few people in the palace she trusted besides Jalal and Ali.

"I knew you would still be sitting here," Zuhal sighed. "I'm sure the bath Kasi drew for you has gotten cold by now." Kasi was one of Nazanin's chambermaids. She was usually the one to wake her up in the mornings and draw her baths.

"I got distracted." Nazanin removed the Adventures of Sinbad from her lap and placed it on the night table beside her bed. Zuhal, catching a glimpse of the title let out another sigh.

"You know," she began as she headed for the bathroom within Nazanin's chambers, said princess getting up to follow her. "That man's been the talk of the palace." Zuhal stopped at the large, rounded bath tub and allowed Nazanin to test out the waters of the bath with her finger. It wasn't as hot as she'd like, but it was warm enough, and she didn't feel like waiting to have it refilled.

"The whole palace has gone mad," Zuhal added.

Nazanin hummed at this as she stripped off her sleeping robe and slid into the tub of water. She reached for the bun that held her hair up and undid it, letting the long, thick locks fall around her.

The King of Sindria's visit wasn't due for another couple days, yet he'd been the talk of the palace for the past week. He had yet to step on Sumeryian soil, but that didn't stop the maids from gossiping about how devilishly handsome he was supposed to be. Nor did it stop the male servants from talking about how strong and gallant he supposedly was.

"Everyone's just eager to meet the man who conquered the Seven Seas," Nazanin provided as she lathered her skin with a fragrant soap. "I have to admit, even I'm a little excited."

"I know, but he's yet to even step foot on Sumeryian soil! The other maids won't stop babbling on about him."

Nazanin shrugged, "They always gossip. Don't you remember when I selected Jalal to serve me?"

"Don't remind me." Zuhal had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes as she got on her knees behind the princess and began to wash the younger's hair—though she was a lady in waiting, she was still expected to do some of the duties of a servant. "I don't think I ever wanted to get demoted so bad."

A smirk tugged at the princess's lips as she recalled the memory. It was about six years ago when she was just fourteen, Zuhal was around twenty at the time and had already been with her for four years. The king suggested that Nazanin have another attendant, one that could protect her as well as serve her, and instead of choosing one for her, he allowed her to pick on her own.

She had chosen Jalal, whom was seventeen at the time, from the Imperial Army. She had seen him training one day and decided that she wanted him. At the time, her eldest cousin Armin, had thrown a fit because Jalal was one of the best swordsman they had, but the King brushed aside his complaints and let her have him. She hadn't even known he was their best swordsman. She had only chosen him because she thought he was cute and his eyes were pretty.

Within a day of being moved to the palace, word had spread about the handsome new swordsman that was the princess's new attendant. Since Zuhal was her lady in waiting and was constantly around Nazanin and in turn Jalal, the other maids constantly flocked to her to ask about the young man.

Nazanin laughed remembering how Zuhal had snapped at one of the maids for inquiring about Jalal's relationship status. Her scolding wasn't too lady like. Nazanin had been just down the hall with Jalal, so they had heard everything. She found it quite amusing, but Jalal seemed to be embarrassed and even slightly annoyed by it—the gossiping or Zuhal she wasn't sure.

"What's so funny, Princess?" Zuhal asked dryly.

Nazanin shook her head, fanning her eyes with her hands to stop her tears from falling. Somehow, no matter what, her eyes always watered when she laughed. "Just remembering when Jalal first became my attendant."

The older woman snorted, "Honestly, I don't know why you chose him to be your little vassal in the first place. "

"He comes from a good family."

"Yes, but you should have chosen someone closer to the court."

"But he was cute," she admitted.

Zuhal lightly tapped the side of the princess's head. "Princess, he's your servant!"

"So, that doesn't mean I can't acknowledge that he's handsome, does it?"

"You're just as bad as the maids," Zuhal sighed. "As long as you only say these things around me. If someone else were to hear, they'd get the wrong idea."

Nazanin hummed in response and splashed some water onto her arms and chest.

Once Zuhal finished washing Nazanin's hair, she stood up and walked over to the counter, grabbing two towels of differing sizes. She handed the large one over to Nazanin, who had also gotten up and was about to step out of the tub, so she could dry herself off. The smaller one she used to dry the princess's long hair.

When the princess's hair was mostly dried, Zuhal ushered her back into the bedroom. "Hurry and get dressed, so you can go downstairs and eat. Jalal will be waiting outside to escort you.".

"Yes, _mother_."

"Please," Zuhal scoffed as she made her way to the exit.

With the woman gone, Nazanin dropped her towel onto her bed. Zuhal had laid some undergarments on her bed for her to wear. After slipping the garments on, she walked over to her large closet. She rummaged through the closet, a shiver running through her at how cool her room was. She always took some time when choosing her outfits, so perhaps she should have kept the towel on for warmth.

After a few minutes or so, she had picked out what she wanted to wear for the day. It was similar to what she always wore: cropped shirt, long fitted skirt, with sheer fabric wrapped around her torso diagonally to her shoulder. Honestly she didn't know why she always spent so much time in her closet, as if all her weren't of a similar nature. They were just different colors with different detailing. Today, her outfit was violet with gold embroidery. Her wardrobe consisted of many purples and pinks, as she thought they looked the best on her bronzed, caramel skin.

Moving out of the closet she made her way to the vanity table that was on the far wall directly across from her bed. She took a quick glance in the mirror and ran a hand through her dark, wavy hair. It was still damp and she didn't feel like styling it or calling for one of the maids to do it for her, so she decided to just keep it down and let it air dry.

She looked on the table, and grabbed the small container of argan oil and poured some in her hand. She rubbed her palms together before spreading the serum through her ends, starting at the tips and then moving up. When she was done with her hair, she wiped her hands on a nearby cloth.

She then reached onto the table for her ring, which she placed on her left middle finger, and her necklace. She wasn't really one for wearing much jewelry, save for the ring and necklace, and her pierced ears, nostril, and navel. Special occasions were the only times she wore a significant amount of jewelry.

Jewelry was a symbol of status, and as a member of the royal family she had no shortage of fine and expensive jewels. Besides her piercings, her ring and necklace were the sole pieces of jewelry she wore on a daily basis. The ring was gold with diamonds encrusting it—it had been father's. The necklace had been a gift to her mother form her father. It was a thick, gold choker that was also diamond encrusted with a large amethyst stone in the center.

As Zuhal had said, Jalal was standing outside of her room when she opened the door. He was leaning against the wall, waiting patiently for her to exit. When he saw her, he quickly straightened up and bowed his head. "Good morning, Princess."

She smiled, "Good morning, Jalal." She started walking down the hall towards the stairs, Jalal following just a few steps behind.

"I want to go into town today," she announced as they descended the steps. Downstairs they were greeted by members of the royal guard. Nazanin gave them smiles as she passed, Jalal saluting them. As this area housed the royal family, it was always the most heavily guarded.

"Anywhere in particular you'd like to go, Princess?"

Nazanin shrugged. "Not really. I just want to get out of the palace for a bit. We can go wherever you'd like. You're always loyally following me around wherever I want to go, so today I will follow you."

"You're too kind, Princess."

"I suppose." She then turned a corner, heading in the direction of the dining area. "We can go later in the afternoon, after lunch."

Jalal nodded. "Of course, whatever you wish."

* * *

 **[ . . . ]**

"Princess, you should cover our face," Jalal suggested, holding out a cloth as he walked with her to the palace gates. It was early evening, and they were now going out into the city. She had gotten caught up during the day, so they were leaving later than planned.

Nazanin tilted her head, "Why so?"

"As the princess, you'll attract much attention."

She shook her head, stopping in order to let the men in charge of guarding the gates open them. "The people hardly care about me, Jalal," she stated rather indifferently. "I'm not a real princess. They care more for the true royalty."

Jalal frowned at her words. "You _are_ true royalty, and the people adore their princess."

While it was true that she was royalty, she didn't consider herself the true Princess of Sumeryia. The king and queen were not her parents, but instead her uncle and aunt. Nazanin was the daughter of the king's late and cherished younger brother, Ahmad, and his wife Nasrin. Her mother had died from unknown circumstances when she was just a little girl, and her father died several years after from illness. He had been the commander of the Sumeryian army.

After her father's passing, King Arman was quick to adopt her, thus making her a princess. The king had always paid her much attention. He always treated her as if she were one of his own, which was why he hadn't hesitated to adopt her, much to the displeasure of his wife, Queen Nuria. For some reason, she knew not why, the queen held a strong dislike for her. She remembered even as a young child receiving dirty looks. Her dislike for Nazanin seemed to rub off on her eldest son, as he didn't care too much for her either.

As for the part about the people adoring her—if the people consisted of just those in the palace, then sure, but the people of Sumeryia didn't know her like they knew the princes. Princes Armin and Ali were known as the strong and valiant commanders of the Army, and Prince Ahmed, though lacking the presence and drive of his elder brothers, was a skillful magician. She on the other hand didn't have any battle prowess, nor was she adept in magic—there was nothing special for her to offer Sumeryia's people. She was fourth in line to the throne and the chances of her ever succeeding it were slim—there was no need for the people to know her. She was in the background and content with remaining there.

With a sigh, she took the cloth from his hand. It was small and matched her clothing. She pulled it up to her face and reached around to the back of her head and under her hair to tie it in place—it covered her mouth and nose and hung down her neck, ending at her chest.

She placed a hand on his forearm, letting it sit there for a moment. "Let's go, shall we?"

"Of course, Princess."

The streets of Hassan were busy with people everywhere, even in the evening time. Vendors lined the streets, as did those performing street acts. People were close together, bustling in and out of shops and restaurants.

Nazanin stayed close to Jalal, her hand holding onto the crook of his arm as if she would lose him in the crowd if she didn't.

Thankfully, they hadn't garnered too much attention. She received a few curious glances, but no one seemed to truly realize who she was. This was mostly due to the fact that the majority of her face was covered, but also because she didn't leave the palace often—if she did, it was only with Jalal or sometimes Zuhal, not with an entourage like when any of the princes would go out.

"What is it that you want to do, Princess?" Jalal asked as they ventured deeper into the city.

Nazanin shrugged, unsure of what she wanted to do. She was feeling stuffy in the palace, so she really just wanted to get away from it, but now she knew not where to do or what to do.

"Where is it that you like to go when you leave the palace?" she asked as they continued to walk.

Jalal raised his free arm and brought it to the back of his head, giving it a scratch. "Where I go isn't fit for a princess."

"The Red Light District, huh?" The man flinched at how easily she said it. "Well, let's go."

Jalal stopped abruptly, causing Nazanin to run into his side. He laughed uncomfortably, "Surely you must be joking, Princess. The Red Light District is no place for you."

"Why not? I hear that some places are quite entertaining, and the food and service is fantastic."

"Princess." A crease was present on his forehead due to the furrowing of his brows. "Do you know what they do there?"

Nazanin rolled her eyes and scoffed. She ripped her arm away from his, choosing to place them on her hips. "Do you think me a child, Jalal?" she asked, though she didn't wait for a response as she continued. She knew what his answer would be anyways. " _Of course_ I know what they do there, but that's also not _all_ they do. I hear they have good snacks and entertainment."

She brought one of her hands up to rest under her chin, "Well…I suppose it is awkward for you to go there with me, isn't it? Perhaps I should have asked Farhan or Karim—you're friends with them, right?"

She continued to babble on, "We're friends too, right, Jalal? If you want to go and be serviced by one of those women, you're free to do so. I can wait while you do."

Jalal's hazel eyes widened before he slapped a hand to his face to hide his embarrassment. "Princess, please...I don't want to hear that from you," he groaned.

"What? You're a man and I know you have urges. Most of the time you're with me so you probably never have time for yourself. If you want to go have some fun with a few women, I won't stop you."

A heavy sighed left Jalal's lips.

Somehow, after much persuading on Nazanin's part, the two were now seated at the nicest table in the most expensive and luxurious pleasure house within the Red Light District. Nazanin sat comfortably on the plush, pillow-filled sofa, snacking on some of the fruit and finger foods laid out on the table.

Jalal beside her on the right with his arms crossed. He didn't know how to feel about his princess bringing him to this club. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable there—he'd been to many brothels and clubs within the Red Light District with a few army friends, but being here with her was different. He didn't think his princess should be exposed to such things, but it was surprising to see that she was unfazed by the women dressed in clothing that would be deemed unacceptable if worn in public and by the men who unceremoniously gawked and grabbed at them. He found himself wondering if this was really her first time here.

He looked down at the woman beside him, who seemed content and unbothered by the atmosphere. "Princess, are you sure this is alright?"

"Jalal." She paused to pop a red grape into her mouth. "I think it'd be best if you didn't refer to me as Princess in here, don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"You've known me for many years now. Naz is fine, at least for the moment."

He paused for a moment before nodding. She was right, if he were to continue calling her Princess, surely it would draw some unwanted attention even if her face was hidden. What would the people think of their princess hanging around in such a place?

"Okay, Naz."

"They're coming," Nazanin pointed out as two well-proportioned women heading in their direction with bottles of the finest alcohol.

They were both of average height, standing around five-four. One wore her long, honey blonde hair half up half down, and the other wore her brunette hair in a long side braid. Both were dressed in long, low rise skirts and sequined bralettes, exposing their slender midsections and pierces navels. Their faces were covered from the nose down by a cloth matching their outfits much like Nazanin's, but theirs were sheer. The blonde took a seat on Jalal's right and introduced herself as Golina. The brunette sat between Jalal and Nazanin and introduced herself as Asya.

"It's not often that women come here," Asya stated as she poured Nazanin a drink. She wasn't much of a drinker, but not wanting to be rude, she accepted it. "Do women suit your taste more than men, perhaps?"

Nazanin found it hard not to laugh at the brunette's question. She shook her head, taking a small sip of the sweet alcohol.

Golina on the other hand, rubbed her hands along Jalal's well-toned biceps. After having poured him a drink a few moments before, she scooted closer and crossed her legs.

"We don't usually see men bringing their women with them when they come here. What's the occasion?" the blonde inquired.

"She's not my-"

"We're just good friends," Nazanin cut him off, giving an unseen smile. "He was recently promoted to Colonel, so now we're celebrating before he becomes too busy in the army to have any time for himself," she lied. "Please focus both of your attention on him. Treat him well."

Jalal was surprised at how easily she'd made up that little story. Nazanin herself was surprised at how quickly she thought up the little lie, not that it bothered her. With her request for the girls to treat him well, the two women focused all their attention solely on Jalal, leaving her to snack on the fruit laid out on the table—something she was all for.

At some point, the women pulled Jalal up, latched themselves onto each of his arms, and proceeded to drag him off to who knows where. Of course, he had attempted to protest, not wanting to leave the princess by herself, but Nazanin waved him off with a smile. She was content with having all the snacks to herself for the moment, and she doubted anyone would pay her any mind with all the beautiful women scattered around the place.

Of course, with the way the universe worked, she was wrong.

 **[ . . . ]**

"The women of Sumeryia are something else, eh Spartos?"

The man named Spartos coughed, his cheeks visibly red, as a dark skinned man slapped him on the back before turning his attention back to the two women on his muscular arms. Spartos awkwardly glanced at the beautiful woman next to him pouring him a drink before looking over to his king. As usual, the king of Sindria was surrounded by women, two on each side—smaller than his usual harem of women.

"Is it wise for us to be here?" the redhead questioned, moving his head back and forth between both men.

The dark skinned, light haired man—Sharrkan—was two women away at his right, while his tan skinned king sat on a separate loveseat with the small harem of women. They were obviously comfortable surrounded by the scantily clad women, he on the other hand—not so much.

They had arrived in Sumeryia a couple days earlier than expected. Instead of heading straight for the palace, where they would have accommodations, Sinbad—being the responsible king he was—decided that he and his two accompanying generals should visit the Red Light District.

"Of course!" The king stated with a laugh. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying some of the beautiful luxuries this country has to offer before we get down to business." He gave one of the women a light tap on the bottom, causing her to let out a giggle and she curled closer to him.

Spartos blushed, averting his eyes. "B-but, my king…"

"You heard our king. Lighten up, Spartos!" Sharrkan commanded with a grin.

Spartos sighed, giving up. Those two were the same when it came to these types of things. He'd never win. He silently wished for Ja'far to be there to reel the two back in, but he had to look over Sindria while the king was away.

He turned his head, his eyes scanning the room. It was dimly lit, so he couldn't too far, but he did notice something that caught his attention.

"Eh, what are you looking at, Spartos? A pussycat caught your eye?" Sharrkan asked playfully, noticing the man's attention had drifted.

"There's a woman."

The dark skinned male made a noise before saying, "Well, duh! There're women everywhere."

Spartos shook his head, "I know that, but there's a woman sitting by herself. I thought it was improper for woman to come to these establishments, but perhaps the customs here are different..."

At that, the Sinbad's ear perked up. He leaned forward, moving the woman around him back a little, so he could see this woman his general spoke of.

Not too far from their table, was indeed a woman sitting by herself at an expensive looking table—more expensive than their own. He couldn't see much of her face due to the cloth masking it, but he could tell she wasn't a worker as her clothing covered more and looked to be made of a finer material than the other women's.

"No woman should be left alone in a place such as this," Sinbad announced, standing up. "I shall make her acquaintance and keep her company."

Sharrkan thought nothing of it and shrugged his shoulders. He was used to his king's behavior when it came to women—Sinbad wouldn't be Sinbad if he didn't make "acquaintances" with a few women. Plus, they were in a brothel, what was the harm?

Spartos on the other hand was a bit wearier. Though they were in a pleasure house, they were in a foreign country and the king had been drinking—a lot—and drinking was his weakness. He was known to do some less than commendable things when under the influence, especially with women.

"My king, we're in another country. Perhaps you shouldn't."

"Do you not trust me, Spartos?"

The redhead faltered, "I-it's not that I don't trust you, but-"

"I'll be fine!" Sinbad brushed him off with a light wave of the hand before heading over to the lonely female—though it wasn't him Spartos was worried about.

The woman didn't seem to notice him as he neared, so he took the liberty of plopping down beside her, leaving little space between them. When she turned to face him, he realized something. She was his type—well, all women were his type, but even with her half covered face, and even in his intoxicated state, he could tell she was a pretty woman. On her eyes alone—a rare shade of blue, indigo with a tinge of violet—anyone would deem her good looking. His lips twisted upwards as he stared into her eyes.

 **[ . . . ]**

Nazanin tensed when she felt the pillow filled sofa dip. Her hand that was hovering over the tray of snacks on the table retracted as she turned to her left to see who had entered her space. She was met with a lustful, golden gaze and an equally as lustful smile.

"I couldn't help but notice a beauty such as yourself sitting all on her lonesome," the man stated, leaning a bit closer to her.

Nazanin leaned back at the sudden intrusion. How could he call her a beauty when a good portion of her face was hidden?

Her brows furrowed as she examined the man whom had made himself comfortable beside her. He was handsome, exceptionally so, with very long purple hair tied loosely in a ponytail and molten gold eyes. His clothing was different from what her people wore, signaling that he was from abroad, and he was covered in quite a bit of jewelry. With that amount of jewelry, in her country he would be deemed someone of a high status.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her eyes moving back to meet his.

"Perhaps, but maybe it is I that could help you? A pretty woman like you shouldn't be alone." He wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush to his side. Taken by surprise, her reflexes kicked in and she stuck her hand out to steady herself, her hand however ended up on his upper thigh. He took her misplaced hand as a sign of interest.

A low chuckle reverberated from his chest, "Eager, are we?" He peered down at her—now she could see how flush his face was and smell her country's sweet alcohol lingering on his breath—and said, salacious smile still on his face, "I have a room in the nicest hotel in the city, care to join me for the night?"

Nazanin's whole body froze and she could feel her face becoming warmer. Was he…was he…propositioning her? She had no clue what to do, she'd never been in such a situation in her whole nineteen, almost twenty, years of living. When the hand on her shoulder, slid down to not so subtly grope her rear, she squealed—unconsciously leaning into him in an attempt to get away from his hand.

Another chuckle left him as his hand remained on her bottom, giving another light squeeze, mistaking her panicked squeal and movement closer for her being interested.

"What do you say, hm? I promise to make it worth your while."

Before Nazanin could properly react, she was yanked out of the stranger's grasp. She made a small noise at the feeling of her arm being pulled so harshly as she was quickly led out of the building by her furious vassal.

Once far enough away, they stopped. Jalal turned around to face his master, his face displayed an array of different emotions. He patted her shoulders, moving down to her arms, before turning her around to make sure all her clothing was in place.

"Princess, are you alright? Did that lecher harm you?"

Nazanin didn't answer, her mind still reeling from what had taken place just moments before. She had been propositioned by some stranger, albeit a handsome one. She had no idea how to feel. Offended because he thought he could just boldly ask her such a thing as if she were some easy woman, or flattered for catching the handsome man's eye?

 _Wait a minute._ What was she thinking? It didn't matter that he was attractive, he was a lecher!

"I knew I shouldn't have brought you here. I've put you in danger!" Jalal hung his head down shamefully. "Prince Ali will have my head for this."

Nazanin shook her head, forgetting the stranger and what had transpired moments ago. "No, Jalal, you were only doing what I asked of you."

He looked up, his worry filled hazel eyes meeting her violet ones. "But, Princess-"

"No but's. I'm fine, Jalal. It was just some drunk man spewing nonsense. My cousin doesn't need to know about it." She wasn't just saying this to save Jalal from punishment, but her cousin would also have her head for even thinking about entering the Red Light District.

Jalal grabbed the hilt of his sword. "I should go back and sever his hands for touching you like that."

Nazanin gently grabbed his hand, shaking her head. "No, Jalal."

"Princess, are you sure?" His hazel eyes studied her face to make sure she was serious.

"Yes, yes. Forget about it, okay? Let's just go home and not speak of it again."

"As you wish," he answered, allowing her to wrap her arm around his as he lead her back to the palace. She was his princess, if she wished him to forget about it, he would. He would make no further question of it.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is probably the longest chapter I've ever written of anything. Hopefully, I caught all the typos. I have no clue how I managed to write something over 5000 words, so don't expect all the chapters to be this length. Also, don't expect other updates to be as fast as this. I had this chapter already completed when I posted the first one. I was going to wait a little longer to post, but I really wanted to leave you with something else before the new year.

Well, that was an interesting way to meet, wasn't it? Lol, I don't know how it got to this, but it was fun to write. It was also a little tough since we've never seen (as far as I know) how Sinbad acts when drunk. HOWEVER, I based this on what his generals said about him during that incident with Kougyoku. Pisti said he one time tried to hit on an old lady, Yamuraiha said he hit on her once, and Spartos said they get endless complaints from women he's propositioned. When trying to recall if he had sex with Kougyoku, he said things like that have happened before while he was intoxicated so... I think this is an appropriate depiction of how a drunk Sinbad may act around a woman he finds attractive (probably any woman, tbh).

Imagine when Naz and Sin formally meet. That's going to be fun :D

Just a reminder that this is about 4 years before the series, so Sharrkan and Spartos are around 18 and 19 during this.

 **Thanks everyone for the follows, favorites, and reviews! I try to respond to every review in a timely manner. I honestly didn't expect to get any, so I was very happy ^_^**

Until next time!


	3. Three

**Chapter Three**

The palace was hectic, servants running around and adding the finishing touches to the guest chambers and palace décor as they prepared for the King of Sindria's arrival. Word was sent to the palace that he had arrived in Sumeryia earlier than expected and would be coming to the palace that afternoon to meet the royal family and have lunch before discussing business with King Arman.

Zuhal sighed for what seemed to be the umpteenth time as she headed up the stairs of the royal family's wing, just nearly missing being knocked over by a maid running up the hall with a bundle of sheets.

"Sorry, Lady Zuhal!" the girl called out behind her.

 _How careless._ Zuhal shook her head. The day had just started and she was already feeling exhausted.

She thought everyone was making entirely too big of a deal about the Sindrian king's arrival, "everyone" meaning the female servants. Their constant chatter about the man was almost unbearable. She couldn't imagine what they would be like once he actually entered the palace and they saw him in person. She was just about the only one not making a fuss about it, but she supposed at the end of the day, they were just excited to meet someone so well known.

Zuhal was broken out of her thoughts and dropped into a low bow once she reached the top of the stairs. Just down the hall and making their way towards her was the first prince.

"Prince Armin!"

"Lady Zuhal."

He waited until he was directly in front of her before telling her to stand up.

She rose and folded her hands in front of her torso as she looked over the first prince. Her eyes slowly moving over his tall form.

He was dressed in royal attire—as would be the other members of his family— that consisted of a black tunic, white pants, and a white and gold sash going diagonally across his torso from his shoulder to his hip. The front of his short, dark hair was pushed back so the strands didn't hang in his face, showing his forehead. She stopped at his face, meeting his dark brown eyes.

Contrary to popular belief, the first prince didn't always have a sober look on his face, sometimes it was blank—like now, though it did nothing to make him any less intimidating.

"You're bold today," he stated in a cool tone. He was referring to her looking him in the eye, though she quickly turned away and looked down, feeling a sudden heat come to her face.

Zuhal always considered herself to be a very composed woman, but whenever she was around the first prince that composure cracked. Even with all her years around the royal family, out of everyone in the palace, she always found herself becoming flustered around him.

He made a noise too short to be a chuckle before walking by her to go down the stairs, his shoulder brushing hers. He paused beside her, his hand coming to rest on the bannister of the stairs.

"Zuhal."

"Yes, my prince?" she asked, still not looking to meet his gaze.

"What do you think of the Sindrian King's visit? Are you excited like the others?"

"He's just another guest, my prince."

"I see." Armin hummed, lightly drumming his fingers on the bannister. They stood there for a few long seconds before he spoke again.

"Do make sure the princess doesn't make a fool of herself. I won't tolerate her embarrassing our family in front of our guests." With that he was on his way, leaving Zuhal alone on the second floor.

Being the woman she was, she took only a moment to collect herself and take in the prince's words before resuming her original objective: to ready the princess for the day's meeting.

 **[ . . . ]**

When she entered the princess's quarters, Zuhal wanted to expect her to be ready, if not almost ready, to meet with the royal family downstairs and greet their guests when they arrived. She would be dressed in her royal attire, her long, dark hair would be done up elegantly, and a touch of makeup would enhance her already gorgeous features. But alas, not even in a perfect world could that happen. The sight Zuhal was greeted with was anything but—the princess was sitting cross legged in the center of her bed in only her undergarments, while three maids surrounded either side of the bed with piles of clothing littering the duvet.

Zuhal took a moment to consider what was going on before making her presence known—because the women were much too occupied with their current task to notice when she entered the large room. "What in Solomon's name is the meaning of this?"

Everything paused and all eyes turned to her as she asked, "Princess why aren't you dressed yet?"

The princess only huffed and turned her head crossing her arms.

Zuhal shook her head, recalling Prince Armin's parting words.

 _Make sure the princess doesn't make a fool of herself._

At this rate, the princess would be late, something the prince hated.

Zuhal knew not what Nazanin had done, maybe it was her lack of ambition or her naiveté, but somehow the princess had managed to get on the first prince's bad side, always receiving the brunt of his austere personality. It was common knowledge around the palace that the first prince disliked the princess, he didn't bother trying to hide it.

She turned her attention to the three maids, Aja, Bahar, and Kasi. Aja and Bahar were twins, similar in age to the princess. Both were of average height, with bronze skin, dark brown eyes, and long black hair. Aja's hair was always done in a loose braid down her back, while Bahar always braided her hair over her right shoulder. When the twins were first brought to the palace for work, she remembered being unable—like most of the palace inhabitants—to tell them apart. Now, it was an easy feat. Aja was plump compared to her sister, so her face was slightly more rounded, and Bahar's brows were darker and thicker.

The older of the trio, Kasi, was shorter and thinner with a narrow waist and hips. Despite her thinner frame, her bosom was near the size of Aja's. Unlike the other two, she was of a lighter complexion, and her dark hair was kept in a tight pony tail that brushed the back of her neck.

These three were the main attendants to the princess, and when they weren't assisting the princess, they were assisting Zuhal with whatever needed to be done.

"Why is she not dressed yet?" Zuhal crossed her arms and asked the trio.

The twins shared a glance, before turning to Kasi. Said woman looked from the twins to Zuhal, then back to the twins and back to Zuhal and then gave a sigh.

"Lady Zuhal, we're having a bit of a dilemma."

"I can _clearly_ see that, Kasi. What is this _dilemma_?"

"The princess can't decide what to wear," she finished.

"Can't decide what to wear?" Zuhal repeated.

Aja nodded, "She doesn't like anything she's put on."

"Even though the princess always looks beautiful anything she wears!" Bahar quickly added.

"Yes, yes," her twin nodded her head rapidly in agreement. "The princess looks beautiful in anything!"

Zuhal glanced over the trio with slight annoyance. It was times like these that made her want to reconsider her job. She lifted her hand and motioned for the girls to leave.

"Go and find something productive to do. Come back to put all these clothes away and tidy the room once the princess has left."

"Yes, Lady Zuhal," the three said in unison, bowing their heads to her and the princess before exiting the room.

Once the trio was gone, Zuhal focused her attention on the half-naked princess.

"Since when are you so picky?" she asked with a raised brow. "I thought you loved all your clothing."

"I want to make a good impression," Nazanin finally admitted.

"A good impression? Since when do you worry about making a good impression?" Zuhal asked, walking toward the closet, several feet from the bed. "I don't remember you being this preoccupied with your appearance when the Asurian king and his sons visited last month."

Nazanin rolled her eyes and barely concealed a look of disgust. "King Cyrus is an old man. Why would I need to make a good impression on him?"

"And the princes?"

"Darien and Navid are equivalent to Armin and Ali."

Darien and Navid visited the palace numerous times over the years, with Asuria and Sumeryia being so close. The two kings were the best of friends, so it was only natural that their children would be. Darien, the older of the two, got along best with Armin since they both had similar attitudes, though Darien was a little less sober and had no problem with Nazanin. Navid and Ali were the same age and two peas in a pod.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Zuhal inquired from the large closet.

"Of Ali no, Armin yes."

"Here we go," she announced after a minute of looking through the grand closet, coming out carrying a thick red dress and champagne fabric. "One of your royal dresses should suit today well." She stopped in front of the bed, placing the dress down on an open space.

"Now, get up, princess. The Sindrian king will be here in an hour's time, and the last thing you want to do is be late to greeting him."

Nazanin spared her a glance and then looked over to the dress. It was made for her a couple years ago, and she couldn't remember ever wearing it. With all the clothes she had filling her closet, it was easy for garments to be lost and forgotten in the very back.

"I suppose it works…" she said quietly. She crawled over to the edge of the bed, disregarding the numerous pieces of clothing that filled it, before getting off. "Help me put it on."

Zuhal sighed, "Of course, princess. That _is_ what I am here for, after all."

Unlike the rest of her clothing, the dress had no opening that showed off her midsection. The sleeves were short, just covering her shoulders, and the dress fit her body snuggly. It was long and hugged her hips, and like her others, flared out in a mermaid style once it hit her knees. The outfit was completed with the champagne fabric being wrapped diagonally over her torso and draped down behind her shoulder.

After getting the garment on, Zuhal led Nazanin to the vanity across the room so she could do her hair. Nazanin sat down on the cushioned stool in front of the large mirror and dresser, while Zuhal stood behind her and began to brush through her hair.

"You have such lovely hair, princess," she said casually as she ran her fingers through the black tresses. "So smooth and thick, and it's grown quite a lot since the last time you cut it."

Nazanin hummed as she looked through the mirror. Her hair had always been long and grown fast. She didn't remember much about her mother, since she died before Nazanin could spend much time with her, but her father had always complimented her on her hair saying it was just as beautiful as her mother's. Apparently, she was the spitting image of her mother.

On the dresser were her usual jewels, her mother's necklace and her father's ring. After putting them on, she opened the third drawer down on the right. It held most of her other jewelry. Since today was a somewhat special occasion, she'd be expected to wear more than her usual amount of jewelry. Gold and silver bangles would do.

From that same drawer, Zuhal grabbed a gold, flower shaped barrette to pin back the front of Nazanin's wavy hair. It was a simple, yet elegant style.

A knock sounded at the door as Nazanin slid the bangles onto her arms.

"Naz, are you ready?" Instead of it being Jalal, as they expected, it was the voice of the second prince.

"Just a minute!" Zuhal called out. She quickly one of the dresser drawers and began fishing around.

"We don't have time to make you up. Perhaps just some color for your lips and something to make your lashes longer."

Nazanin said nothing as Zuhal pulled out a lipstick and small container of mascara from one of the other drawers. It took her only a few moments to put them, and when she was done, Zuhal grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her towards the double doors leading out into the hallway.

"Go now. If you're late it won't only reflect badly on you, but your family as well." _And me_. She wanted to add.

"You don't need to be so rough," Nazanin muttered, straightening her dress and wrap.

Nazanin opened the door, revealing the second prince. He was dressed in one of his royal outfits, white pants and a green tunic with a gold and white sash, and his sword at his side. She was sure Armin and Ahmed were dressed similarly.

"Why are you here?" were the first words that left her mouth.

That earned her a smack on the shoulder by Zuhal, who stood directly behind her. "That's no way to greet the Second Prince your cousin!" she hissed. She then looked to the prince and bowed her head. "Forgive her, Prince Ali."

Ali nodded his head towards Zuhal before looking to Nazanin and holding his arm out to her. "Let us go before we're late." He added lowly, "I could do without the complaints of Armin for one day."

She glanced at his arm before stepping forward and hooking her arm around his, allowing him to lead her out.

 **[ . . . ]**

"Why are you here?" she repeated her inquiry as he led her away from her room and down the corridor.

Ali's lips twitched upwards ever so slightly, "That's some greeting, Naz. We're going to the same place, can I not walk with you, my dear cousin?"

She ignored him asking, "Where is Jalal?"

"How are you going to answer my question with another question?" Ali asked with furrowed brows.

"But you just did the same thing," she pointed out.

"Touché." Ali chuckled. "If you must know, I was informed he would be downstairs with some of the royal guard today, so I took it upon myself to escort you."

Nazanin hummed in response.

When they reached the stairs, Ali unhooked her arm from his and allowed her in front to go first. He followed her down a few steps behind. Once on the first floor, they were greeted by the two usual soldiers who guarded the royal wing, Farhan and Karim.

"Prince Ali, Princess Nazanin." They greeted simultaneously, putting their hand to their chest and bowing. Nazanin offered the pair a smile, while Ali waved as they continued walking.

They were headed to the main entrance, as the King had decided that the whole family should be there to greet their guest at the main gates.

Ali stole glances at Nazanin as they walked through the palace halls. They would all be dressed in their royal attire, Nazanin as well, but somehow she managed to look even more beautiful than usual—a feat he would think difficult considering how impeccable she always looked.

"You look very nice," he commented. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear that dress. It suits you."

Nazanin glanced up at her cousin, though she didn't have to incline her head too far. Ali was tall and stood at six feet like his brothers. In fact, a good portion of Sumeryian men were rather tall, and height was considered a very attractive trait for men. As for women, heights varied. Nazanin was on the taller end of the spectrum at around five-foot-eight. She was after all, the product of a tall mother and even taller father.

"Thank you."

"Are you trying to capture King Sinbad's eye?" Ali asked, throwing her a rather sly grin. "Maybe he'll write about you in his next book?"

 _Of course he had to ruin it._ Nazanin thought as her elbow met his side.

The prince winced and quickly stepped to the side, distancing himself from her.

Ali was one of the few who knew of her love for _The Adventures of Sinbad_. He had caught her reading it several times in their youth, and used to make fun on her for reading it as often as she did. He always wondered how she never got bored of it, but after reading the story once for himself, he could see how it enthralled her.

Truth be told, he was a little curious to see the man behind the tale whom managed to conquer numerous dungeons. And though he didn't show it, he knew even Armin was just as curious to meet the so called High King of the Seven Seas as well—probably to put a face to the name and determine just what type of man he was. As for his younger brother Ahmed, he had no clue whether he was even interested in meeting said man.

Besides the numerous maids who were eager for the Sindrian king to arrive, Nazanin was probably the person in the palace most excited to meet him. She was excited and nervous. Though she was used to being around royalty her whole life, Sinbad was on another level. He was _the_ Sinbad, conqueror of the first dungeon and the main character of her favorite stories. In her eyes, she was meeting a celebrity, and he rightfully was.

Noticing she was not going to speak, Ali opted to remain quiet as they continued on their way, lest he say something and earn another knock to his side.

Once they reached the large, golden, palace double doors, two guards, whom stood on either side of the doors, pulled them open and allowed them to exit. Before them were the small steps that put them on a path straight to the palace gates. Down the path was a long red carpet that led directly to where the members of the royal family stood a few yards(meters) away from the large golden gates that separated the palace from the city.

Nazanin and Ali made their way towards the family and into their perspective positions. The king stood in front, the queen dutifully by his side. Behind them were Armin and Ahmed. Ali moved to stand between the two so they were in order of age. Nazanin took her spot on the other side of Ahmed, since she was younger by a few months. The royal guard surrounded the family—Nazanin spotted Jalal among them—as they waited quietly for the Sindrian king's arrival.

"I see you took your time in getting here, brother."

Ali, glanced at his older brother to his left.

Armin stood straight and tall with his hands at his side. He was looking ahead, showing no indication that he had even spoken. He looked every part the first prince in his royal attire, his sword securely at his side.

"I was escorting our dear cousin, _brother_."

"Is that not what she took one of our most capable men for?"

"Are you still upset about that? How many years ago was it? You sound like she took your crush." Ali taunted with a snicker. "No worries, brother, there are plenty of men within our forces just as capable as Jalal."

Armin scoffed, "That is beside the point. She already has someone to act as her lapdog, so I don't see why you took it upon yourself to do so."

"I don't see why you're so concerned," Ali countered.

"Could you two, please..." the youngest brother, Ahmed sighed out as he shook his head. Despite being the younger sibling, he was the most level-headed, and at times he was the one to interrupt their bickering, though most times he chose to stay out of it.

Ali huffed, turning to look anywhere but Armin's direction while the latter remained facing forward, the only indication of his irritation being the slight twitch of his brow.

Nazanin chose to remain quiet, pretending as though she hadn't heard their bickering, though she found herself having to bite her tongue when Armin referred to Jalal as her lapdog—he was anything but.

It wasn't long after that the gates to the palace were opened and the announcement of King Sinbad's arrival came. Three men entered, all dressed quite differently, and were led straight to the royal family. Behind them were several Sindrian guards, as would be expected.

"King Sinbad, we meet again," King Arman greeted, extending his arm for a firm handshake. "Welcome to Sumeryia."

The man, dressed in white and purples robes and jewelry all over, returned the gesture with a smile. "King Arman, the pleasure is mine."

Arman nodded his head and motioned to his wife beside him, "This is my wife, Nuria."

Sinbad gave the woman a charming smile, gently shaking her hand.

Arman stepped aside and motioned to the trio of young men and the young woman standing behind him, "And these are my children."

Taking this as his que, Armin introduced himself to the foreign king, and since he was the eldest, it was expected of him to introduce his siblings. "Welcome, King Sinbad. I'm First Prince, Armin Al' Jassan. These are my brothers Second Prince, Ali and Third Prince, Ahmed." The two younger brothers bowed their heads in greeting to the king.

"And this is Princess Nazanin." He introduced her last, as she was the youngest, as well as the only female.

Nazanin said nothing and only offered a tight lipped smile as the foreign King's eyes fell onto her. He looked at her for a moment longer that the rest, his gaze inquiring, before King Arman grabbed his attention once again.

Now that the greetings were done, it was time for lunch.

King Arman and Queen Nuria left first, followed by Sinbad and the two men he'd arrived with, last came the three siblings with Nazanin following behind them. As they were leaving Nazanin saw Jalal standing off to the side with the other guards. The expression worn on his face matched exactly what she was feeling at the moment: scandalized.

* * *

 **A/N** : Okay, so they've "officially" been introduced. This chapter had a bit more about some of the people in the palace. It ended up being a lot more dialogue than I wanted, but I've always been that kind of writer. I am working on it though. The next chapter will be a continuation of this one and we'll get into some of the characters' thoughts.

 **Question:** **What are your opinions on Muu and Lo'lo?**

Anyways, it's after 2AM as I write this because somehow I always end up finishing and updating chapters at these horrendous hours. I've proofread a couple times, but alas, it's late and I'm halfway asleep and listening to Migos is what's keeping me awake.

Thanks for the favs, follows, and reviews!

Until next time,

Xoxo


	4. Four

**Chapter Four**

Nazanin sat at the small table on the library's balcony that overlooked the grounds of the palace, a cup of cold and sweetened tea in hand. Her eyes were focused on the scene below: Ali and Ahmed entertaining the two men who had arrived alongside the King of Sindria. She, along with the others, learned during lunch that his two companions were royalty in their own right. Sharrkan, a prince of Heliohapt, and Spartos, a prince of the secluded Kingdom of Sasan.

Across from her sat Jalal trying to gauge her appearance. He was unsure of where to start, and the princess hadn't said a word since lunch, which was over almost two hours ago. She simply looked down and over the balcony at the men below, occasionally sipping at her tea.

"Princess," he began. "Are you alright?"

She glanced at him briefly from the very corner of her violet eyes. "Of course, why do you ask?"

He hesitated to answer. One thing about the princess was that when the time came for it, she could put on a good poker face; however, he knew her long enough to know when something was bothering her. In this case, he knew exactly what it was.

"Perhaps you should have a word with the king," he suggested.

"What would I need to have a word with my uncle for?"

"I was talking about the Sindrian king."

Nazanin put her teacup down and turned in her seat to face her older vassal. She rested her arms on the table, ignoring the fact that it was improper for her elbows to be on it—they weren't eating anyways. "About what?"

Jalal clicked his tongue against his teeth, "About the fact that he got handsy with you, Princess. Why else?"

She sighed, leaning forward and resting her chin on the back of her hand. "I doubt he knew it was me."

"He probably didn't at first, but I'm sure he's recognized me and put the pieces together. It isn't proper for a princess to be in such places, I'm sure he'll wonder why you were there. You don't want him to think bad of you."

Nazanin thought back to a few hours ago when Sinbad first arrived to the palace. As everyone introduced themselves, it was her his eyes stayed on the longest. During lunch, she kept feeling his eyes, and whenever she looked up she managed to meet his golden gaze even though they sat at opposite ends of the table. It did occur to her that he may have recognized her, but he had been drunk; the likelihood was slim.

"He'll only be here for a week maybe two at most, I don't think it'll be necessary."

Jalal eyed the princess skeptically. He was someone who liked to have any issues resolved as soon as possible, but if the princess didn't see the need to, he would go along with her wishes.

Nazanin suddenly stood up, surprising him by nearly knocking over her teacup.

"Prince-"

"I think I'll spend the rest of the afternoon in my room."

Jalal stood up as well, ready to lead the princess to her room, but she held out her hand.

"I'm fine on my own. Just make sure no one bothers me until dinner."

"As you wish, Princess."

 **[ . . . ]**

Sinbad was no idiot, though his right-hand man, Ja'far, would at times disagree. Now being one of them. For that, Sinbad was glad Ja'far had remained in Sindria because if he were here, the younger man surely would have killed him. If it wasn't for the fact that he visited the red-light district when he first arrived in Sumeryia, it would most certainly be for getting handsy with the princess of said country. Yes, the _princess_ , but it wasn't his fault.

He couldn't remember much from the previous night, except that he was turned down by—more like robbed of—a woman whose only visible features were her eyes and hair. They were an unmistakable set of eyes—a blue with tinges of purple, indigo would best describe them. He'd never seen such eyes before, and he figured whoever possessed them had to be good looking, and he was right—the person was gorgeous; however, he hadn't expected it to be the princess of a country he was visiting for diplomatic reasons.

Earlier in the day when he first saw her and her eyes, Sinbad couldn't help paying a bit more attention to her than her siblings as she was introduced. Her eyes were unlike the rest of the royal family's, instead they were the exact color and shape as the woman's the night before, but that hadn't been what convinced him that it was the same woman. What confirmed it was after his lunch with the royal family, she was escorted out by the same man who pulled her away from him that night.

Now he was in a predicament. He and the King were finished with their discussions for the day. They had not yet come to an agreement, but one was sure to be seen in the coming days with the way things were going. Sumeryia had some fine goods and resources that, as a king, he thought would be of great benefit to his kingdom. Not only did he want to establish trade, but a new addition to the Seven Seas Alliance as well.

If the princess complained about his less than savory actions, it would without a doubt ruin Sindria's chance for any future negotiations with Sumeryia. That, he simply could not have. He wouldn't, and couldn't, allow Sindria to be negatively affected by his own actions as a man.

"We are almost to your quarters, King Sinbad."

Sinbad gave the young servant a small nod. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings since he left his meeting with the king. He would have to find his way around the large palace later.

As they passed a large archway guarded by two Sumeryian soldiers, his escort abruptly stopped and bowed her head.

"Princess," the young woman greeted.

The princess, who was just getting ready to go up the spiraled staircase, stopped and turned around. She gave the servant a gentle smile before turning her attention to him. The smile she gave him lacked the warmness of the one previous.

"King Sinbad," she greeted. "I hope so far you are enjoying your visit."

"I am," Sinbad answered. "Your country is beautiful, and I hope to see more of it before I return to mine."

"I'm sure you will. Now if you'll excuse me." She turned back around, ready to head upstairs, but Sinbad called out to her.

"Princess, may I have a word with you?"

She looked over her shoulder and gave him a once over before looking away. "Perhaps another time, King Sinbad." she replied as she began walking the steps.

Sinbad watched her ascend the stairs until her figure disappeared onto the floor above. He had hoped her answer would be different, so he could get things straightened out as soon as possible, but it looked like that wouldn't be the case.

"King Sinbad, your room is just down this hall," the servant announced once the princess was gone. "May we continue?"

"Yes, of course."

 **[ . . . ]**

At some point after she had made it to her room, Nazanin fell asleep. She was out for a few hours in a dreamless sleep until she was woken up by knocking on her bedroom door. Whoever was knocking on her door eventually became impatient and entered the room without her consent.

Nazanin sat up slowly and with a deep sigh; she was still drowsy. Only one person would be so bold to walk into her room like that—besides Zuhal, but she knew it wasn't her. She'd told Jalal to not let anyone bother her. Jalal had more authority than Zuhal, so even if she didn't want to, she'd have to listen to him. That left only members of the royal family, and none except one ever ventured to her quarters.

She looked down at the pillow her head had been resting on, and seeing the small wet spot, ran the back of her hand against the side of her mouth. She had been drooling, which only happened when she napped. She picked up the pillow she'd drooled over and threw it at who entered the room.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Ali, who caught the pillow, exclaimed. "Don't throw your saliva filled pillows at me!"

"Then don't come in my room without my permission," she retorted. "What if I'd been changing?"

"I was knocking for a whole minute," Ali said as he threw the pillow to the corner of the room—one of the maids would wash it later. He looked up and brought his hand to his chin, the stubble reminding him that he needed to shave, as if he were taking something into consideration and added casually, "I'm sure you changing wouldn't be such a bad sight."

Nazanin immediately picked up another pillow and chucked it at his head. This time Ali wasn't prepared and barely had enough time to move his head out of harm's way. It hit right his shoulder rather roughly before hitting the ground.

"You're disgusting," Nazanin muttered.

Ali tiltled his head back and let out a hearty laugh, "I'm only kidding!"

Nazanin sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Did you come with a purpose or just to bother me?"

Ali's lips twitched upwards as he inquired, "Am I bothering you?"

"Ali…"

He again laughed, shaking his head.

"I simply came to tell you dinner will be served shortly." He stated. "But I have to admit, I came to satisfy my own curiosities as well."

"About what?" Nazanin asked.

With the sleepiness out of her system, she moved to sit at the edge of her bed, where her sandals were, and began to put them on. They were handmade leather.

Sumeryian leather was one of the more expensive leathers of the world. Their leather was of a higher quality and well worth the price. She assumed that leather would be one of the items negotiated to establish trade for, along with silk—another good in Sumeryia known for its high quality.

"Well, what is it, Ali?" she repeated, looking up as she finished securing her shoes.

"Is King Sinbad not what you expected?"

Nazanin's thick brows furrowed at his question. She stood up, smoothing out her dress as she did.

 _Where did that come from?_

"What do you mean?"

Ali shrugged his shoulders, "I figured you'd be more enthusiastic. Has the excitement of meeting the famed dungeon capturer king worn off already?"

Nazanin wasn't sure how to answer. She couldn't and wouldn't dare tell Ali what had transpired the other evening, not for fear of what would happen to her, but of what would happen to with Sinbad and Jalal. Of her family, she was the closest with him and in turn, he was at times overprotective—even more so.

If Ali knew Jalal had let her go to a whorehouse, he surely would have found every way in the book to punish him, and maybe even going as far as imprisonment. As for King Sinbad, she didn't think Ali was crazy enough to pick a fight with the dungeon capturer, but she was sure he'd make certain that any sort of relationship between Sindria and Sumeryia would be nonexistent.

"Is he not what you expected?" Ali again enquired.

"No, that's not it," Nazanin finally answered. She walked across the room towards the door where Ali stood. Said man turned and opened the door, allowing Nazanin to go out first. Jalal, who had been standing just outside, followed behind them as they made their way down the hall to the stairs.

"Then?" Ali pressed on.

Nazanin rolled her eyes at his pesky questions. Why had he taken such an interest in this right now?

"Ali, does it really matter?"

"I suppose not, but I'm curious, Naz."

"Haven't you heard that curiosity killed the cat?"

"Fortunately, I'm not a cat."

She sighed, glancing over her shoulder at Jalal. He was staring at the prince, probably wondering what he was getting at. She looked forward again as they reached the stairs.

"The King is not what I expected," she admitted, and it was true. Quite frankly, if she were to ignore the other night's incident, Sinbad was more than she expected. He was tall, with a muscular build and just as handsome as the rumors, and with all his jewels, looked every bit the High King of the Seven Seas and dungeon capturer that he was.

They were now on the first floor and headed towards the dining hall. The rest of the family and their royal guests were most likely already situated and waiting on them for dinner to be served.

"Oh?" Ali looked at her intrigued. "Is that good or bad?"

"I haven't decided yet." Nazanin replied.

* * *

Ali Al'Jassan was still curious, or rather, suspicious.

Truthfully, days ago he'd only been asking Nazanin all those questions about Sinbad to annoy her. He found it amusing how she was so excited for his arrival, but became indifferent after meeting him. He guessed the lore of the Adventures of Sinbad had worn off after meeting the real thing.

Still, this confused Prince Ali because he didn't understand what had suddenly changed. The princess had been the most excited for the Sindrian king's arrival. She _still_ read the Adventures of Sinbad even though she'd read it plenty as a child. In their youth, while he practiced sword fighting, she'd watch—and often times interrupt—and ramble on and on about how she wanted to meet the dungeon conqueror and conquer a dungeon with him. She'd grown out of the dungeon conquering part, but she still admitted the man and occasionally mentioned wanting to meet him one day.

Nazanin said he wasn't what he expected, but Ali didn't understand how. He knew for a fact that she had yet to speak with the Sindrian King besides the day of their introductions. Was he too ugly?

As he walked along the shaded paths just outside the palace, he scoffed at himself for thinking such a thing. Even he could see that King Sinbad was a good-looking man, so good looking he seemed to have the female staff in a trance whenever he passed by. Besides, Nazanin wasn't the type of person to judge someone by their looks—well, not harshly at least.

He just simply couldn't fathom how a figure Nazanin so admired, she now showed no interest in. So, when he saw said king and princess talking in the gardens under the shade of a large acacia, his suspicions grew.

 **[ . . . ]**

All week Sinbad had been trying to find a way to talk to the princess, but the opportunity always eluded him. Despite being in the same wing of the palace, he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen her, and whenever he did see her, unlike their first palace run in, she was always accompanied by her guard or a woman he assumed to be her lady in waiting.

When Sinbad, who was outside trying to catch some of the Sumeryian sun after a meeting with the king and first prince, spotted the princess by herself in the gardens, he couldn't let the opportunity pass. If he didn't clear the air now, he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance again. So he made his way across the courtyard to where she sat.

Nazanin, who was sitting on and blanket and reading a book under the shade of a large tree, looked up when he approached. A look of surprise crossed her face when she noticed it was him.

"King Sinbad," she greeted.

"Princess Nazanin," he returned with a charming smile. "I'm glad I saw you. Is was hoping to have a word, do you mind?"

She hesitated for a moment before agreeing and closing her book. She began to stand up, but Sinbad stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder and forcing her back down. He could tell by the way she tensed, that she was uncomfortable with his touch. He removed his hand, placing it back at his side.

"Please, sit," he insisted. "I'll join you."

Nazanin nodded and scooted over, allowing him space on the blanket.

Sinbad sat down on her left, leaving a good amount of space between them.

"What are you reading?" He asked, glancing at the book in her lap. Her hands were over the cover, so he couldn't see the title. As he asked, Nazanin moved her hands and placed the book between them.

"Ah, a book on Heliohapt?"

Nazanin nodded, "Yes, I sometimes like to read about other countries' histories."

"Well, if that's the case, I'm sure Sharrkan wouldn't mind telling you some things. He is originally from Heliohapt, after all. If you're in-"

Nazanin cut him off, "What is it you wanted to speak to me about, King Sinbad?"

Sinbad paused for a second before letting out a sigh. Just from that, he could tell this was a difficult woman. He turned to face the princess, leaning most of his weight on his right arm, "I wanted to apologize to you, Princess."

She turned her head to face him, her blue-violet eyes meeting his. Those striking, and dark eyes. He briefly wondered if they were unique to her or were there others in Sumeryia with eyes such as those.

"Apologize for what, King Sinbad?" she inquired.

He was sure she knew why he was apologizing, but she was probably trying to make sure they were thinking of the same thing. She more than likely thought he didn't recognize her, and under normal circumstance, he probably wouldn't have.

He bowed his head and continued, "I acted inappropriate towards you the other evening. The last thing I want is for this to affect my country's future relations with yours. I hope you can forgive me."

A moment of silence passed, worrying Sinbad. Now he knew how Ja'far felt when he had to clean up his situations. However, what she did next surprised him. She reached out, and lightly tapped the bottom of his chin with the back of her hand. He hadn't expected her to touch him so freely, and with how quickly she dropped her hand, she hadn't meant to.

"A king doesn't bow his head." She said firmly.

"I can overlook this, King Sinbad. I'm partially to blame; I shouldn't have been in such a place." She quickly added, "Besides, I'm not someone who would strain country relations over this."

He let out a sigh of relief; a weight was off his shoulders. She accepted his apology quicker that he thought. It appears he misjudged her—she wasn't difficult at all. "Thank you, Princess. I appreciate your kindness." He thought for a moment and asked, "If you don't mind me asking, why were you there in he first place?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I was curious, and I had heard the food was good and wanted to try it."

Sinbad's stared at the princess in confusion before chuckling, "The food, huh?"

The princess hummed in response, but suddenly sat up straighter and returned her gaze to him. "Would you like something to drink or eat? I can have someone fetch some tea and snacks. Forgive my rudeness for neglecting to ask earlier."

Sinbad shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it." He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over to the right. He had felt eyes on him since he took a seat next to the princess, but he had made nothing of it. Taking this as an appropriate time to leave, he stood up, brushing his white and purple robes with his hands.

"I must take my leave, princess, but I thank you again. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon."

"You too."

It was a few minutes after Sinbad left Nazanin to herself that Jalal appeared. She had previously sent him to run a small errand for her—one in which he should have returned sooner than he did.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop, Jalal. I thought you knew better than that," she stated.

Jalal bowed, his bangs brushing across his face. "Forgive me, Princess. I didn't want to interrupt."

Nazanin hummed, picking up the book beside her and standing up. "Let's head inside, it's getting too hot."

* * *

 **A/N:** Wow guys, it's been a while huh? Much longer than I would have liked. I was actually a little lost on this chapter, so I hope it came out okay and I hope you can forgive my absence. I appreciate all the follows, favorites, and reviews. I love reading them and try to respond to all of them.

We got a few different POVs this chapter. Ali was so annoying to write in this chapter because I personally hate being constantly questioned, but there was a reason for his nosiness. As for Sinbad, he was persistent with wanting to clear the air, obviously for the sake of there being no ill will between Sindria and Sumeryia. I actually find it a little difficult to write the interactions between Nazanin and Sinbad. Sinbad is naturally charismatic, but he was cautious around Nazanin for obvious reasons. I also want to try my hardest not to have Nazanin so easily fall for his charms, like other characters do, but who knows how that will turn out.

Speaking of Sinbad…As I write, I often pause and re-watch bits and pieces of Magi to get some inspiration as well as to make sure I stay as true to the characters as possible. The more I re-watch (and dabble in the manga here and there), the more I realize how devious Sinbad really is. Handsome and charming, but devious and manipulative.

 **JustAQuietReader** : Yes, I did base Jalal appearance off of Tyki, specifically his look in Hallow because ummmmmm he's soooo FINE.

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

-fianna2452


	5. Five

**Chapter Five**

"Are you sure about these terms, father?"

Sinbad's eyes drifted from the Sumeryian King sitting at the end of the large conference table to the first prince on the king's right and to the dozen council men around the table. He sighed, rubbing his temples. It was at this moment he found himself wishing for Ja'far's presence. Not that two men at his sides, Sharrkan and Spartos weren't enough, but when it came to politics and negotiations, Ja'far was the most adept of his vassals.

He didn't have the patience or attention span for this. Whenever it came to his country's needs, he was more than ready to get things done, but this…this was beginning to get on his nerves—though he of course didn't show it.

It turned out, that while the princess hadn't been difficult, the first prince was. Throughout the process of trying to establish trade between Sindria and Sumeryia, Armin Al'Jassan had continuously been a thorn at his side. Whenever he and the king agreed on something, Armin would find something to question, thus making the king backtrack. It was absolutely infuriating, it was what was making these negotiations take much longer than expected, and it was what made him suspect the first prince didn't like him very much.

The king rubbed his thick, dark beard as he looked over the people surrounding him: his son, his advisors, and Sinbad and his two generals.

Sinbad hoped he would agree and they could finally put an end to two weeks' worth of negotiating. There wasn't any reason to not agree with the terms. How could he when Sinbad's country was offering more for less in return? A minor sacrifice for the future Sinbad hoped for between Sindria and Sumeryia.

"These terms, I find, are agreeable," the king approved, earning a frown from the first prince. "What do you say, Sinbad?"

Sinbad smiled, nodding his head. "Yes, I think this works best for our two countries."

"Good, we look forward to what Sindria has to offer." King Arman returned.

Both kings stood up, shaking hands as a gesture of agreement. After that, the meeting concluded. King Arman was the first to leave, his son following suit, next the king's advisors, and then Sinbad and his two generals.

Sharrkan was the first to speak after they left room, "That first prince is a royal pain in the ass."

"Sharrkan!" the Sasan prince hissed, "You shouldn't say such things."

Sinbad threw his head back at let out a hearty laugh, grateful for Sharrkan voicing what he himself was thinking. The first prince was a pain, probably one of the most difficult he's dealt with in some time since becoming a king.

That reason alone was why he halted from mentioning anything other than trade in his meetings with the king and his council of advisors. He wanted to discuss more, like potentially joining the Seven Seas Alliance—Sumeryian goods would be traded between his country the other members of the alliance and vice versa on a much grander scale, having the backing of Sumeryia's army would bring even more security to the alliance and its ideals. He very much wanted the country to be a part of the alliance, but he kept this idea to himself. He would wait until relations between the two countries became stronger.

Now the only thing on his mind as he walked through the halls was getting to his room to take a much needed nap. He briefly wondered if he could add pillows to the list of goods being traded from Sumeryia because the many pillows he'd been sleeping on the past weeks were the most comfortable he'd ever laid his head on.

"What's that look, Sinbad?" Sharrkan asked, noticing the slightly tired, yet thoughtful look on his king's face.

"Just thinking of how comfortable the pillows and beds seem to be here."

Both generals hummed and nodded their heads in agreement.

"I wonder if all Sumeryian beds are that comfortable," the king added.

"Well," Sharrkan began with a low chuckle. "Maybe you would know if that girl hadn't gotten away from you, eh?" That earned the Heliohaptan prince a look from his more conservative counterpart and a groan from his king.

Sinbad placed two fingers to his temple and shook his head. He hadn't divulged—and wouldn't— to them that who they were speaking of was the princess, if he had, Sharrkan surely would make no mention of it. Even though he'd apologized for his misstep against the princess, he did not want to be reminded of the embarrassing moment.

"Please, let's not speak of that," he spoke, his voice holding a bit of the kingly authority he rarely used.

That made Sharrkan, Spartos as well, raise his brows in curiosity, but nonetheless he nodded and respected his king's wishes.

As the trio turned the corner leading out of the west wing of the palace, they crossed paths with the queen and her ladies.

A smile graced the queen's face as her eyes met Sinbad's golden ones. She stopped, her ladies taking a few steps back and greeted him, "King Sinbad, what a pleasure."

Sinbad approached her and stopped as she extended her arm. He gazed down her slender, olive arm to her hand; he peeked up at her face, seeing the smile of hers widen expectantly. Inwardly he sighed as he gently took her hand, leaning down to place a kiss on its back. He let her go gently and stood back up.

He gave his usual charming smile as he returned, "The pleasure is mine, Queen Nuria."

"I hope you and my husband have come to an agreement, fruitful for both our countries," she began, "I know my husband can sometimes be a bit hard to sway."

"It took some time, but we have," Sinbad admitted.

Nuria clasped her hands together, "I'm glad to hear that." She then added, "And my sons, I hope they've been treating you properly."

Sinbad chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Your sons are fine men, I assure you."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but he hadn't spent much around the princes to give an honest assessment, except for Armin—he was sure the first prince was, as Sharrkan had put it, a royal pain in the ass. As for the other two, the second, Ali, seemed nice enough the times they'd crossed paths, and the third, Ahmed if he remembered correctly, seemed to keep to himself, as Sinbad hadn't seen him since his arrival.

"How lovely coming from a man such as yourself."

She adjusted the dark red, embroidered fabric that rested atop her head, covering her hair. It matched the red, embellished layered dress she wore and thick fabric a sheerer red that crossed over her shoulder and wrapped around her waist. On her feet, pointed shoes, similar to the ones of he wore. Covering her, he noticed, was much a heavy amount of jewelry, much more than he'd seen on the princess. He supposed a sign of her high ranking as queen.

"Join me for lunch, King Sinbad?' the woman requested, though it sounded more like a command.

"Though my husband doesn't indulge me much, I do enjoy talking politics," she revealed. "And I would love to learn more about Sindria." Her dark brown eyes, a stark contract to the unique indigo of Nazanin's, contained a hint of mischief that he did not want to involve himself with.

There was no denying that the Nuria Al'Jassan was an attractive older woman. He didn't discriminate, a beautiful woman was a beautiful woman no matter what age; however, he didn't get involved with married women, especially those married to kings, kings of countries he wanted to work with.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I already have lunch plans for this afternoon," he graciously let the queen down.

The queen's brow rose, no doubt in surprise at being turned down. "Oh? With whom?"

He answered, "Your daughter, the princess, was kind enough to invite me earlier. I'm on my way to the gardens now to meet her." Again, not exactly the truth. Nowhere near the truth, in fact.

Sinbad wondered if he was the only one to see how her smile tightened.

"Oh, is that so? Maybe I should have one of my ladies escort you and make sure you don't get lost. This palace is quite big, after all"

"That won't be ne-"

"Ashwaya!" she commanded.

The younger woman, Ashwaya, jumped to attention. "Yes, my queen?"

"Escort Sinbad and his men to the gardens, will you? Don't keep _dear_ Nazanin waiting," she ordered.

"Yes." Ashwaya stepped away from the other ladies and bowed to Sinbad before turning her back to him and handing, her head high. "Please, follow me."

Sinbad nodded, "Right, thank you."

The queen sent him another tight smile and wished him a good day before she continued on her way, albeit a bit faster paced than before causing the rest of her ladies to scurry to catch up with her.

Sinbad was grateful both Sharrkan and Spartos didn't say anything as Ashwaya led them through the vast halls of the palace. They would probably question his actions as soon as they were alone. Sinbad was even more grateful when they reached the gardens and Nazanin was there sitting at a table set up under the shade of one of the large trees that lined the area, talking with her guard who stood beside her.

Yet another example of him being favored by fate.

 **[ . . . ]**

When Jalal shut his mouth and stood straight, becoming alert, Nazanin turned around in her seat to see what had caught her guard's attention. She looked curiously at Ashwaya, one of the queen's ladies, walking toward her with King Sinbad and his two prince generals in tow.

"Ashwaya, what are you doing here?" Nazanin addressed the woman once she was close enough, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Ashwaya bowed to her saying, "The queen asked me to escort King Sinbad to you, so he would be on time for your lunch."

Dumbfounded, Nazanin looked to Sinbad. The sheepish smile he was giving her told her to just play along.

She looked back to Ashwaya and nodded, "Thank you, Ashwaya. You may return to your duties with the queen now."

"Thank you, Princess." Ashwaya gave her and Sinbad one more bow before turning and scurrying away. Both Nazanin and Jalal watched the woman, older than them, but younger than the queen, hurry away before turning their attention to Sinbad, who stood in front of the table with his men.

"King Sinbad," she began, "would you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Ah, yes. Sorry about that, Princess. I ran into the queen as my men and I left a meeting with the King. She was _eager_ to invite me for lunch, but I'm afraid I used you as a scapegoat and told her that I was already having lunch with you," he explained. "I hope this won't cause you any trouble."

"It won't," she stated quickly. _Immediately._

"Since you went through all the trouble of making me a scapegoat for your own gain, you should at least stick to your story and join me for lunch," Nazanin suggested and motioned to the seat directly across from her.

Nazanin felt Jalal stance stiffen behind her as Sinbad took a seat. She softly elbowed his torso, silently telling him to relax. Jalal seemed to still be on edge when it came to Sinbad. Even though the young king had already apologized for his actions towards her, Jalal's protective nature seemed to not allow him to refrain from being cautious in Sinbad's presence when Nazanin was around.

Jalal relaxed a bit after being elbows, but the tension hadn't completely left him.

Nazanin looked to his two guards, offering a seat at the table as well. "Prince Sharrkan and Prince Spartos, please join me as well."

They looked surprised that she was extending the same invitation to them as their king, but accepted nonetheless.

"Thank you, Princess," Sinbad said on behalf of himself and his men.

"It's not a problem." Nazanin looked to her guard, "Jalal, would you mind finding one of the kitchen servants and informing them that we'll be needing three more portions."

Jalal nodded, "Right away, Princess."

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Princess," Sinbad said when her guard left. "It seems you were already to have lunch with someone else."

"It's fine, they won't mind," she assured. She propped her elbow on the arm of the chair and resting her cheek on the back of her hand.

"I don't know much about it, but you're here to discuss trade between Sindria and Sumeryia; how is it going?"

"It's going well, actually King Arman and I worked out the agreement today," Sinbad answered.

"Oh? So, you'll be going back to Sindria then?"

Sinbad glanced thoughtfully to the side, "Yes, probably within the next few days. Though I wish I did get to see more of your country."

"You still can," Nazanin stated. "I'm sure the king can get someone to show you around, or even one of the princes."

Sinbad looked to her with a raised brow, "What about you?"

"Me?" Nazanin questioned, her eyes wide.

The Sindrian king simply nodded, his features morphing with a smile. He smiled without showing his teeth, but even so, the smile lit up his face and his eyes seemed to shine and even brighter gold. Nazanin had to fight the urge to stare.

He really was a handsome man.

"Well, what do you say?" Sinbad asked.

Before she could answer, the group was joined by a new arrival, AKA her original lunch guest.

"Ho, what's this? The princess sitting with King Sinbad and his men?"

All eyes turned to the tall figure of the second prince walking towards them with confident strides. He stopped beside Nazanin, resting his hand on the back of the chair to her left. He gazed down at Nazanin skeptically, "I thought lunch was just between you and me?"

Before she could answer, he turned to Sinbad and looked him up and down, as if sizing him up even though he was sitting down.

"I hope you're not trying to cozy up to Nazanin," he stated firmly.

The hand Ali had put on the chair was met with a harsh, and loud, slap from Nazanin.

Ali immediately pulled his hand back, cradling it as he hissed, "Ow! What was that for?"

Nazanin ignored her cousin and turned her attention to Sinbad, ready to apologize and hoping he hadn't been offended, but she was left bewildered when she saw the young king laughing.

"See, Sinbad knows I was only joking," Ali pointed out, pulling the chair out and having a seat. He rubbed his arm, muttering, "You don't know your own strength…"

" _King_ Sinbad," Nazanin stressed the correction, ignoring Ali's complaint.

"No, no," Sinbad started amusement laced his voice, "Sinbad is just fine."

Ali shot her a look as if to say " _See_ "

Nazanin only sighed, pursing her lips. She was silently grateful to Ali's timing because she was unsure how to respond to Sinbad's earlier request. She could only hope Ali wouldn't be annoying today, at least not in front of Sinbad.

 **[ . . . ]**

"My daughter? _My daughter_?" the queen spat in an incredulous manner as a servant cleared the last of the empty plates.

Armin sat back in the plush seat across the table from his mother, watching in a bored manner as she ranted angrily about her run in with King Sinbad. She had begun her ranting as soon as they'd finished eating. As usual, the group of ladies that surrounded her tried to calm her down.

"It was a simple mistake, my queen." One said.

"He didn't know any better, my lady!" Another added.

The queen scoffed and she furiously stirred her tea, "As if that _wretch_ could ever be mine!"

The loud clinking of metal repeatedly clashing with porcelain, along with the sound of his mother's voice, was beginning to irritate him. He picked up his own tea cup and took a sip of the calming and aromatic blend.

He'd run into his mother as he was leaving the administration wing, and she'd invited him for lunch in one of her private quarters. Now he was beginning to regret agreeing as all she'd done so far was complain about how the Sindrian king had turned down her offer of lunch in favor of having lunch with Nazanin.

"She's just like her mother, a whore trying to gain the king's favor," Nuria continued.

Armin felt the urge to roll his eyes. He'd heard that worded many ways throughout his twenty-five years of life.

For reasons, unknown to he and his siblings, his mother detested Nazanin's mother—it was common knowledge among those in the palace. Even now, years after she'd passed, his mother still abhorred her. It didn't lessen over the years, it only seemed to be directed towards the next best thing—Nazanin, who just so happened to look exactly like her late mother.

His mother tapped her teaspoon harshly on the edge of her cup before setting the spoon down and bringing the cup to her lips, taken several sips before setting the cup down. She inhaled deeply and exhaled through her nose.

"Ahmad should have married better. That woman didn't deserve him."

Ahmad, Naznain's father and his only uncle, was the former commander of the Sumeryian Army. He was the only man Armin had fully respected besides his own father. His death was an unfortunate loss for their country.

Queen Nuria leaned her head back in her seat, letting out a noise of exasperation. "I can't believe Arman adopted her into our family and made her a princess."

"My queen, it would have looked bad on the king's part if he left his niece alone," the third of her ladies commented.

"I'm sorry, did I ask for your input, Mishti?" the queen coldly asked without bothering to look.

Armin let out a sigh, moving his cup of tea back and forth, swirling its contents. "Are you done, mother? I was under the impression we'd be having a quiet lunch, not one filled with your incessant complaining."

Nuria shot him look as she spoke, "Don't speak to me in such a tone, Armin. But yes, I'm finished." She then looked to the three women at her side.

"Go and make yourselves useful somewhere." She ordered.

The three women bowed before scurrying out of the room, leaving mother and son to themselves.

She turned back to her son with a smile. "Indulge your mother for a bit, will you?"

Armin brought his cup back up to his mouth, finishing the last of its contents. He brought the cup to his eyes and observes its detailing. The cup was a bright white, its rim lined with gold as was the handle. Around the body of the cup were yellow flowers; he had no interest in such things, so he couldn't identify the type.

Setting the cup back down he asked, "What is it that you want?"

"Is it a crime to want spend time with my favorite son?"

"If that's the case, I'm leaving." He scooted his chair back and stood up, brushing out any creases that formed in his clothing when he sat.

Nuria chuckled. "You treat your mother so cruelly, yet you're the only one I can count on. Ali is just like your father and Ahmed…" she trailed off shaking her head. "That boy's in his own world."

"Are you going anywhere with this, mother?" Armin questioned, beginning to get impatient. There were more important things he could be doing with his time than idly chatting with his mother.

The queen sighed, waving her hand dismissively. "Fine, fine go along. Just know, I'll be needing you soon."

Armin studied his mother for a moment before turning away and heading for the exit. He didn't know what his mother would be needing him for, probably something for her own personal gain.

After all, she was selfish—a trait he with no doubt inherited from her.

* * *

 **A/N:** The new semester is starting in a few weeks, so I don't know when the next update will be, but thanks for reading. And thank you to those of you who have favorited and followed, and especially left reviews. It's all appreciated.

A bit of a transition chapter, but I promise things will get more _interesting_ next chapter.

I encourage you to look at my recently made livejournal, as it has some important notes for this story. I'll be posting on there whenever I have notes/extras regarding this story and well as other/future stories. The link is: _fianna2452. livejournal. com_ (without the spaces)

I admit, I sped through the proofreading because I'm hungry, so any mistakes will be corrected later.

Until next time!


	6. Six

**Chapter Six**

"Is it alright for me to be in your study like this?"

"I told you it wouldn't be an issue."

"But what if-"

"You know, I dislike having to repeat myself."

Said woman nodded and did her best to relax, her shoulders dropping as the tension in them eased. It wasn't the first time she'd been alone with him; however, the butterflies she felt in the pit of her stomach never seemed to lessen with each visit—he was the first prince after all.

"Forgive me, my prince." She bowed her head from where she stood across from the prince.

He sat behind a desk with his right arm propped at the elbow and his chin resting on the back of his hand. Several stacks of papers were neatly on the desk, as well as a small stack of books.

"As much as I welcome your presence, I have quite a few matters to attend to today. What is it that you bring me?"

She raised her head and answered, "The princess and the King of Sindria."

"Go on," he urged with the waving of his hand.

"From what I've gathered, the princess and king had some sort of misunderstanding and that is why she acted strangely when he first arrived. I suppose things are sorted out now, considering their lunch yesterday."

"I see," Armin acknowledged before revealing, "My mother seems to have taken an interest in King Sinbad, so that lunch didn't sit well with her."

The woman scoffed, barely containing her distaste. "Do not take offense to my words, but King Sinbad is half the queen's age. She should place her interests elsewhere, perhaps her husband, the king."

The prince sat up straighter and made a noise of amusement, "I take no offense to what the truth is, just don't let my mother hear such words." He then questioned, more to himself than to her, "Do you think he's taken a liking to Nazanin then?"

She frowned, her brows becoming furrowed. "I would hope not. He's been here for s short time, yet there is no shortage of rumors going around the palace about him."

"I thought palace gossip was beneath you?" Armin taunted.

"It is, but I can't help what I hear as I walk the halls," she said in defense of herself. "If what they say about him inviting not one, but two of the maids into his quarters is true, then he's a lecher who should have nothing to do with the princess."

"He's not the only one to invite a palace maid to his quarters, is he?"

At that she turned around, so her back now faced him, her shoulders stiff. "I'd like to think I'm different from those maids," she said quietly.

* * *

 **[ . . . ]**

"Thank you for taking care of this on such short notice, Ramya," Nazanin said, wrapping her arms around the woman and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Of course, my dear! It's not a problem at all." The older woman returned.

Pulling away, Ramya glanced over to the torn dress hanging near her work station on one of the many clothing racks that filled the room the room.

"How did you manage to get such an awful tear in such a beautiful dress?"

Nazanin shrugged as she eyed the dress and its tear—the tear went straight down the center starting from the bust and ending at where he hips would be. The dress was a favorite of hers, a violet color that brought out her eyes. She didn't wear it often, only on special occasions such as banquets. She was thinking about wearing it for the banquet the king would undoubtably hold to send off King Sinbad and celebrate their newly reached trade agreement, but she supposed that wouldn't be an option now.

Nazanin turned her attention back to the Ramya to find the older woman studying her face.

Ramya was the owner of the small tailoring shop Nazanin was currently in that was located on the less populated end of Hassan. She was a middle-aged woman with a son, whom was part of the military, and a daughter, who worked in the shop alongside her. Ramya was a friend of her late mother and was the only person Nasrin had tailor her clothes. Thus, she was the only one Nazanin trusted to make and tailor her clothing.

"It was that wicked witch's doing, wasn't it?"

Being a friend of her mother's, along with being the royal seamstress, Ramya knew things about the royal family that most people outside of the palace did not—like the fact that the queen hated Nazanin almost as much as she hated Nazanin's mother, Nasrin.

Nazanin again shrugged her shoulders in response.

Ramya sighed, "You remind me of Nasrin in more ways than one."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment," she chided. "You're too lax, just like your mother was. You know…" Ramya began as she walked around to her work station, Nazanin followed. "I saw Nadiah the other day. She asked about you"

Nazanin quickly stopped and turned her head as she asked, "Is she well?"

"Why don't you go and ask her yourself?" the older woman retorted.

"You know I can't, Ramya."

Ramya placed her hands on her hips and sighed, "That stupid Arman has still forbidden you from seeing her?"

"Ramya, you shouldn't speak of my uncle like that," Nazanin scolded. "He _is_ still the king."

"I know, I know, but I find it ridiculous." The seamstress sighed, shaking her head, "I know she can sometimes be…rather difficult, but you should at least consider paying her a visit. She isn't getting any younger."

The princess stared at the ground, unsure of what to say. Nadiah was a name she hadn't heard in a long time. In fact, she hadn't crossed Nazanin's mind in years.

"Princess, we should get going," Jalal announced from the other end of the shop where he stood guarding the entrance. Nazanin looked up and locked eyes with him before nodding and turning her attention back to the seamstress.

"Ramya, I need to go, but thank you again."

"Anything for you, dear." Ramya stepped to the side, letting Nazanin walk passed her and towards Jalal at the entrance. "I should have it ready in no more than two days. Once it's finished, I'll have it delivered to you at the palace. And please, think of what I said."

 **[ . . . ]**

"Thank you, Jalal." Nazanin said once they were outside and away from the shop. Her voice came out a bit quieter because she had her scarf that covered the lower half of her face back on after she had discarded it inside. "I can always count on you."

Jalal, who stood by the carriage with the door open and a hand out ready to help her in, simply nodded. She knew that he knew the thanks was for more than just holding the door open for her, it was also for saving her from having to speak further on the subject of Nadiah. She was sure he was confused about the situation—she'd never brought Nadiah up to him—but regardless, he knew her well enough to know when to whisk her away from an uncomfortable situation.

Nazanin grabbed his hand to steady herself as she placed her foot on the raised carriage step and made her way inside. She slid all the way to the corner, so she was sitting by the left window, which had its curtain pulled back. Once she was safely in, he entered as well and closed the door, taking up the seat across from her, so his back faced the window separating them from the coachman outside

Jalal raised his hand and tapped on the window behind him, signaling to the coachman that they were ready to go. They sat in silence most of the ride, Nazanin observing the streets through the window, every so often sneaking a peak at Jalal, while he took advantage of the time alone to polish the sword he carried around every day.

"You're not wondering about the conversation between Ramya and I?" Nazanin asked, finally breaking the silence. Her voice came out clearer, since she had lowered the scarf covering her lower face.

"I am," Jalal responded, his eyes remaining on focused on his sword. "But I won't pry into your business, princess. If you don't want to talk about it, I won't ask."

"You're too good to me, Jalal," Nazanin admitted softly, turning her gaze away from the window and on to her vassal.

Jalal kept his eyes on his sword as he responded, "You flatter me, princess."

"Nadiah is my grandmother." Nazanin revealed.

Jalal paused what he was doing to turn his full attention to her. "You grandmother?"

Nazanin nodded, folding her hands together on her lap. "She's my mother's mother."

"And King Arman forbade you from seeing her?" She again nodded, which seemed to fuel Jalal's curiosity—she could see it in his hazel eyes as he asked, "Why?"

Nazanin thought carefully before she answered. She had only been around her grandmother a handful of times, since she lived far away in a different city, but in those times she could never figure out what it was that made the king want their separation.

The first time she could remember meeting her grandmother was with both her mother and father, she was very young, perhaps two or three, and the memory was hazy. Another time had been right after her mother passed, Nadiah came to the palace for the funeral—it was the first and last time Nazanin had ever seen her there. Another time was when she visited Nadiah with her father, she was maybe nine or ten, it had been shortly before he passed away.

In her memory, each visit had been normal. Her grandmother would dote on her a bit, play with her hair, pinch her cheeks, and then Nazanin would entertain herself while Nadiah and her parents spoke. The only discrepancy to that was the final time she had visited the elder. It was after her father had passed and that time it was the king that took her, but when they reached Nadiah's home, he didn't allow her to go inside. It was after that, that he forbade her from having any contact with Nadiah.

At first, she had been upset, but she got over it quickly. It was easy since she hadn't known her that well, nor had she seen her that often.

"He said it was because she was a witch."

* * *

 **[ . . . ]**

When they returned to the palace, Nazanin insisted that they split. Though it was his job to be around her most of the day, she liked to give Jalal his own space and time to do whatever he liked—she was sure it had to be tiring to guard a princess every day. He'd meet up with her later in the evening to escort her to dinner.

Now, Nazanin found herself in the west wing of the palace. It was one of the more heavily guarded areas of the palace, considering it was where the king spent a good chunk of his time. Seeing as there were guards near almost every corner that afternoon, the king must have been in one of the meeting rooms with his advisors.

She stopped in front of the white double doors that led to the main meeting hall where a soldier stood at each end guarding the doors.

"Princess," the men greeted, dropping to a low bow.

"Hello, you two. How are you today?"

"We are good, Princess," one answered.

"Thank you for asking," answered the other.

"Is the King busy inside?" Nazanin asked, looking toward the doors.

"He's was in a meeting with Minister Banram, but the Minister left a few minutes ago" the man on the left answered.

"It should be just the King and Sir Farhan," the one on the right added.

"Then it should be fine for me to go in," Nazanin said as she looked towards both men, who nodded in confirmation.

The man on the right raised his arm and knocked twice on the door. When Sir Farhan's voice resounded, inquiring who it was, the man answered, "Princess Nazanin is here to see the King."

With the okay to go in, the soldier pushed the door and held it open, so she could pass through.

Unlike most rooms within the palace, meetings rooms were not decorated as abundantly nor elaborately as the rest. Their decoration consisted of large paintings on the walls, the frames solid gold, and large potted plants in the four corners of the room.

At the center of the room was a long rectangular table meant to seat a dozen people, a five on each side and one on each end. The King sat at the very end of the right half of the table, Sir Farhan, as his righthand man, sat in the chair nearest his right.

"Nazanin," the King greeted her with a warm smile.

"Princess Nazanin," Sir Farhan greeted in his gravelly voice.

Farhan was an older, stone-faced gentleman in his mid-forties. He was a former soldier turned royal guard and advisor to the king, and he had been King Ahmad's right hand for as long as she could remember.

"Good afternoon, Uncle, Sir Farhan," she returned with the nod of her head. She turned to the advisor and asked, "Do you mind if I have a word with my uncle privately?"

"Not at all, Princess," he spoke, immediately rising from his seat. Walking around it, he immediately offered it to her in his stead. Nazanin graciously accepted his offer, walking over and having a seat, allowing him to pish the large chair in for her.

"I'll remain outside," he announced.

"Yes, Farhan, thank you," the king addressed.

They waited for him to exit the room and shut the door before speaking, the king beginning with, "Well, this is a lovely turn in my day, it's not very often you visit me, Naz. You're almost as reclusive as Ahmed."

At this, Nazanin laughed. Reclusive? At times, but comparing her to Ahmed, the third prince nobody ever saw, was an exaggeration. She was out and about the palace almost everyday—she just preferred to stay in her room, the library, or the courtyard near the garden with Jalal and sometimes her maids as her company, but she joined her family at dinner every night—well, almost every night.

On the other hand, Prince Ahmed stayed in his quarters for days at a time and joined the family for dinners sporadically. Sometimes it could be a week or more before he'd make an appearance. The only time Nazanin saw him outside of dinner was when they were welcoming a royal guest, like King Sinbad, or when she'd happen to be in the library to see him returning or taking a book, most likely of the few their library housed on magic.

"It's a bit of a stretch to compare me to Ahmed, don't you think?" Nazanin asked, resting her hands on the table.

The king's lips turned upwards in a smirk as he watched her face. "I don't think I'm too far off."

"You're just far too busy for me to visit, you're always in meetings with your advisors or the ministers."

King Arman sighed, "Thus is the life of a king if he wants to keep his country and its people happy." He leaned back in his seat, becoming more comfortable, folding his arms resting them atop the table. "To what do I owe this visit, Naz?"

"Well…" Nazanin began, tapping her fingers lightly on the tabletop. "I visited Ramya today, I had to take in one of my dresses for tailoring…"

"Ah, Ramya. Your mother's friend?"

"Yes," Nazanin nodded.

"And?"

"She mentioned Nadiah and—"

"Nadiah...that's a name I've not heard for some time. I was hoping to keep it that way."

Nazanin frowned at this, she could already tell this wasn't going to go over as well as she thought. Perhaps she should have given this more thought, or perhaps she shouldn't have bothered.

The king rubbed his graying beard as he watched her closely and asked, "What did Ramya put you up to?"

Nazanin shook her head quickly. "No! She didn't put me up to anything, but…she made me wonder about Nadiah." Her fingers tapped lightly at the table as she quietly spoke. "I'd like to see her."

Nazanin lowered her eyes as long and heavy sigh came from the king.

"Dear Nazanin, you are like a daughter to me. I will gladly give you anything you want, but this is one thing I will not let you have."

"But she's my grandmother, I'd like to see her. I _want_ to see her," she urged, looking him in the eye. She could see his eyes were hard, his mind already made.

"My answer is no, and it will _always_ be no," he stated firmly. "That woman does not need to know you, nor do you need to know her. Trust me Nazanin, I'm doing what's best for you—this is what your mother would want."

Her brows furrowed at this and she scooted back, standing up. Her hands rested firmly at her sides. "How do you know what my mother would want?"

"I'm only looking out for you, Nazanin." The king assured.

"So, my mother wouldn't want me to know my grandmother?" she questioned.

The king sighed, standing up as well. "I won't repeat myself. My say is final, and you will not be seeing Nadiah, is that understood?"

She said nothing.

"I'll see you at supper."

She watched as he walked out of the room, leaving her alone.

That hadn't gone in the direction she had hoped.

* * *

 **A/N:** I had to split this chapter up because otherwise it was never going to come out. Sadly, no Sinbad in this chapter (sorry for making you all wait so long to now have him in the chapter), but he'll make an appearance in the next. Btw chapter is unedited…they're hopefully aren't many mistakes since it's been sitting on my computer and I've been adding and changing things for the last 8 months, but who knows.

Now to address the whale in the room:

Um…so yeah it's been over a year since I updated this, the last time was August 12,2017, it's now August 28th, 2018. I have somewhat of a good reason for this: shortly after I posted chapter 5 and about a month after my final semester started, my laptop decided to finally give way. That means I lost everything on it, new story drafts, chapters for current stories—yup, that means the original version of this chapter, which btw was completely different, was lost. I purchased a new laptop by the end of 2017, but I basically lost all inspiration for this story as well as others. I was completely stuck with this chapter, I was unable to recapture what I had originally wrote and had to come up with something new, which kind of worked out, but I'm not completely happy with.

I also graduated college and entered the work force fulltime, so whenever I have some free time, I sleep or attempt to have a social life (you'll see once all your friends are working how hard it is coordinate time to hang out, especially when everyone's schedules are different)

Well, that's that. I'll try not to make the next updated another year from now.


End file.
